Two Worlds, One Love
by radioactivealchemist
Summary: Two worlds. Two lives. None of us remember when the dreams started, or whether they were dreams or... something real. Which world had come first? We didn't know. But when we found each other, things started to change. 2x1, 4x3/3x4, 13x5, & 6x13
1. Chapter 1

**Two Worlds, One Love**

Two worlds. Two lives. None of us remember when the dreams started, or whether they were dreams or something else, something real. In one world, it felt like the other was only a dream, and vice versa. Which had come first? We didn't know. We didn't know they were connected, or that we were connected by them. Not until we found each other...

* * *

The caravan wound slowly through the desert, a long train of carts and camels, a streak of darker color cutting through the endless sand and dust and heat. Quatre sat within the cool confines of his wagon, thankful for the comfort his status accorded him on the long journey. Had it been his choice, he would not have chosen to cross the desert, but where the healer's temple told him to go, he went. It was not his place to question them.

Tugging at the neckline of his white robes, he wondered how they could stand it, the merchants and the mercenaries. Even in the shaded interior of the wagon, the heat was terrible.

Suddenly, a shout was raised from front of the caravan, traveling back along its length, and he sighed in a mix of relief and frustration. They had come upon an oasis, but the journey was not yet over. Quatre felt the wagon speed up, and for want of something to do he raised the flap between himself and the driver.

"How long until we arrive?"

"Ah, sirrah, I don't know, but it seems we will be sharing water with another caravan. We will be stopped here several days, likely as not."

"Grand," he muttered, and let the flap drop back into place.

Having the wagon all to himself and no one to talk with, he fell into quiet reflection.

* * *

By the time the wagons had been parked and the drivers were beginning to tend to their mounts, dusk was beginning to spread over the desert. The din was terrible, and he sought a place away from the water where the sands muffled the sounds. People stepped out of his way, bobbing their heads in respect as they passed. He made his way to where the lanterns were beginning to burn, where a multitude of wagons from both caravans had set up shop and were hawking their wares in earnest. He was not interested in buying, only in looking; there was nothing he needed for himself, and no one he need buy trinkets for. It was merely a diversion, although he did have money if he discovered something which might be of interest to the temple.

He passed by wagons selling textiles, jewelry, pottery, and spices; he stopped once, to examine some scrolls, and then again to purchase a crumbling tart to curb his hunger until the campfires of his wagon train had been lit and dinner was prepared. With distaste he found himself approaching the end of the run, where the whores plied their trade and slaves were bought and sold. Normally, he would have turned around; dark was falling quickly, and he had no stomach for such sights. But something made him keep walking, and he was not one to dismiss such feelings lightly. The whores paid him no mind.

The slave wagons were mere cages, covered over in carpets during the day to keep out the heat but uncovered, now, to show off their wares. Quatre glanced over them in pity, but did not meet their eyes because he could not save them all.

A tent was set out near the wagons, a place for auctions, for buyers to examine their prospective purchases, and it was to this tent which Quatre was drawn. The night was young, and the auctions had just begun; a small crowd was gathered, mostly other slave-traders, but here and there a wealthy merchant seeking an extra hand. Quatre hovered at the edge of the crowd. Several people gave him strange looks, but it was not their place to question him. It was rare, but not unheard of, for a healer to take mercy on a slave and purchase their freedom. The current auction ended, and the next slave was brought forth.

Quatre's sharp intake of breath caught the attention of several of the crowd, and the auctioneer in turn glanced over towards him; but the slave remained where he was, staring at the ground.

There was no doubt in Quatre's mind, however, that he knew the slave. He didn't know how he knew; only that he recognized the face from his dreams, and a name sprung to his mind along with it, something only half-remembered in the early waking hours: Trowa.

"Does the healer wish to buy this slave's freedom?" the auctioneer asked him; and without a second thought Quatre gave him a curt nod.

"I do."

There was no haggling; Quatre would pay whatever price he asked, with the money provided to him by the temple. An assistant led the slave away to have his ankle and wrist chains struck off, and Quatre followed the auctioneer inside the tent to conclude the sale.

It puzzled Quatre somewhat that there had been no reaction; of course he would not connect Quatre's voice with a dream, but surely he had heard that his freedom was being bought, something that should make even the most sullen slave ecstatic. The thought did not worry him for more than a moment; the paper was signed, money exchanged hands, and Quatre found himself in possession of a slave. He left the tent and was presented with his new purchase, to do with as he willed.

Standing outside the glow of the lanterns in the half-light, Quatre found himself uncertain. Was this slave who he believed him to be? He seemed taller than in his dreams, darker of skin and more well-muscled, and Quatre had not gotten more than a glance at his bowed face.

"What is your name?"

"I have no name, master." His voice was quiet and calm, and the same as Quatre remembered from his dreams; and he thought he had heard the same words in the same voice once, long ago. Quatre frowned.

"I am not your master. I grant you your freedom."

"I refuse it."

Nothing could have prepared Quatre for those words. Gratification, thanks, any number of other reactions - anything but a refusal.

"Why?" If there was a hint of anger to his voice, he did not care to hide it.

"I am content to serve my master," the slave replied simply, his eyes still downcast.

Quatre took his chin in one hand and brought his face up. The same features, the same eyes... no, he had not made a mistake. Trowa's green eyes gazed calmly back at him, sapping Quatre's sudden anger. If he recognized his would-be savoir, his expression gave no indication of it.

"I am a healer! I cannot keep a slave," Quatre chastened him, and let his hand fall away from Trowa's face as he turned his back on him. Trowa said nothing.

Quatre felt tired. The heat of the desert, the weariness of travel, was wearing on him; he did not feel like arguing, not then. He began walking back towards where his caravan had set down, back to his wagon. There would be time enough in the morning. Trowa followed silently in his wake.

* * *

Quatre woke as the sun began filtering in through his curtains. Still half-asleep he thought that the night's dream had escaped him, the tedious caravan; but then it hit him full-force and for several moments he remembered, very clearly: Trowa, a slave, dark-skinned and well-muscled wearing nothing but a loincloth and both of them standing in shadow. He blushed furiously and rolled over, knees digging against the mattress as he buried his face in his pillow hiding a shy grin of embarrassment.

After a breather he glanced over at the clock and saw that he was up early; but the dream still stuck with him, that moment in the lantern-light, and he got up and headed for the shower.

As he washed his hair, Quatre considered what this meant. He couldn't remember when, precisely, the dreams had started; only that it seemed to have been sometime after the five of them had met. Sometimes unremembered, sometimes only half-remembered, but he could still follow the plot. He knew who he was in that place, though he hadn't been able to measure it precisely with words or thoughts until now. He remembered thinking this place a dream. He almost laughed out loud, but kept it to a giggle.

Was it real? He would have to talk with Trowa to find out. And was it only the two of them? He would have to ask the other three pilots as well.


	2. Chapter 2

Quatre glanced around the kitchen as he came down the stairs, but only Duo and Heero were present. "Where's Trowa?"

"He and Wufei left early. They'll be back Tuesday," Duo replied cheerfully as he grabbed the note from the counter and waved it towards Quatre. Quatre took it and read it as Duo sipped his coffee.

"Oh."

He caught the disappointment in Quatre's voice. "What's the matter?" he asked as Quatre put the note down and took a seat at the table.

"Oh - nothing, really... I suppose it can wait."

Duo wagged his finger at the blond. "No, don't give me that! Tell me what it is!"

"It can wait until after breakfast," Heero interrupted them, delivering a heaping platter of pancakes to the table and taking a seat himself.

"Way to go," Duo muttered, and dug in.

* * *

"So what's up?"

The three of them were lounging on the living room couch now, with the news on the TV fading into the background.

Quatre chewed on his bottom lip. "Well, I thought I'd talk to Trowa about it first, and I'd really prefer if all of us were here... I... I guess I just don't want you to think I'm crazy or something, that's all," he replied with forced cheerfulness.

"Christ, don't worry about that. We're all a little crazy... well, you maybe more, but..." Duo yelped and tried to cover himself as Heero chucked yesterday's rolled-up newspaper at his head.

"What was that for?" Duo demanded as Quatre laughed quietly.

Heero merely shook his head.

Quatre contemplated for a moment how to phrase his query. "Well, I don't exactly know how to explain it, since I wasn't really sure of anything until last night - no, this morning." He frowned, then changed his tack. "Have either of you been having dreams of another life, in another world?"

At that moment, something very curious happened to the atmosphere in the room. A sudden subtle silence fell which spoke volumes.

"Shit!" Duo's exclamation and expression told it all, and for once Heero's normally straight face mirrored his sentiment.

"I take that as a yes?" Quatre asked. "You remember now too, don't you? Maybe that's the trigger...That's when I realized, when I met Trowa there, in that world, last night... and as soon as I knew it was him, I remembered everything about _this_ world."

"It's not a dream..." Duo finally spoke. "I remember thinking there that all this was a dream. Funny, huh?"

"I thought the same," Quatre replied with a nod.

Heero just shrugged. "But it is just us, or everybody...?"

"I don't know," Quatre answered, "but I think it must either be just us, or a very small group of people. If it's the four of us - we three, and Trowa - then probably Wufei too. But I don't think it could be everybody in the world. We'd have heard about it long before this if that were the case, or we'd have certainly run across somebody in one world that we knew in another by now."

"I think that's about right," Duo added. "But... why didn't you talk with Trowa about it there? Or were you just not sure?"

Quatre went quiet. "Well... for one, I'm not sure he recognized me, or if he did he didn't show it or say anything to me."

"That's odd," Duo remarked. "Anyway, who are you there?" His question was addressed to the both of them; Heero answered first.

"Just a mercenary. Nobody interesting or important."

"Huh. Exactly what I would have thought," was Duo's reply. "It certainly fits you, being a soldier both here and there. What about you and Trowa? No, wait, don't tell me! I want to guess," he added suddenly, then stroked his chin in contemplation. "Well, I would have guessed Heero was a mercenary anyway, or maybe a prince -"

"A prince?" Heero interrupted.

"Well, you know... no, wait, never mind. Anyway, our personalities seem to be pretty much the same, don't they? But maybe a little more... extreme there. At least I know that's how it is for me. You sound pretty much the same." The last was directed at Heero.

Heero frowned, but refrained from replying.

"I think... I think you're probably one of two things: a politician, or a healer."

"Which one?" Quatre asked with a smile.

"Aha! So one of them is right. Score for me!" He settled down with a more serious expression. "I'll go with... politician."

Quatre held his fist out, thumb up... and turned it down. "Bzzt. Wrong answer."

"Aw... but that's what I really thought anyway! It certainly fits you. What about Trowa? Is he a mercenary like Heero?"

Quatre shook his head. "No... it's... well, complicated." He didn't know whether he should say, if Trowa cared about them knowing or whether Duo would persist until he pried it out anyway. Heero saved him from having to make that decision.

"What about you, Duo?"

"Me? Ah... well, I'd rather not say, actually..." he replied with a sheepish smile.

"Fair enough."

"I don't know if Trowa would feel the same way or not, so..." Quatre added, trailing off. His thoughts went back to that scene, in the shadows with Trowa - Trowa, the slave.

* * *

"Hey, Heero?"

"Hm?"

They were in Heero's room, Duo sprawled out on the bed, Heero at his desk on the computer.

"I was just thinking... do you want to meet? In that world, I mean." He twisted the end of his braid between his fingers.

"If you want."

Duo rolled over onto his stomach and propped himself up on his elbows. "That's all? Aren't you going to ask me why, after I said I didn't want to say who I was there?"

"Why do I need to ask? I don't mind not knowing."

"I don't believe that bullshit," Duo snorted. "Everybody wonders about everything. It's human nature."

"If I ask, will you tell me?"

"Hmm... nope. I think it should be a surprise," he replied with a grin. "Do you know where you are now?"

Heero's hands hovered silently over the keyboard as he thought. "Near a forest, I think. Ask me tomorrow - I'll remember better."

"Yeah, probably. It's still a little fuzzy, isn't it? But I wonder if we'll remember this there tonight."

"We should, if Quatre remembered meeting Trowa there."

"What do you think is up with Trowa, anyway? Quat said it was complicated..." Duo sighed. "You know, just because we're friends here doesn't mean we won't be enemies there. But a mercenary doesn't really have any enemies, do they? Not except for the immediate danger of 'this person is trying to kill me' in a fight, I mean. That's why I know I could meet you and not be worried about it."

"But not Quatre? Are you someone who the healers count as an enemy?"

"Christ, they've got enough of them it's hard not to be. But I'll let you keep guessing because I'm evil like that," Duo replied with a grin and tugged on his braid.

Heero resumed typing without rising to Duo's bait.

* * *

Quatre went to bed that night in a state of anxiety. He had hoped to speak with Trowa, but Trowa wasn't there and he would rather talk about it face-to-face than call. Trowa was quiet and withdrawn and it was hard to tell what he was thinking most days; but as Duo had pointed out, these were the points which were taken to the extreme with him in the other world. In Quatre's case, it was his own kindness and patience; and though he was torn between fighting and wanting peace here, his other-self rejected fighting completely and would not raise a fist against another creature or even touch a weapon - never mind that such a thing was against the healer's creed in the first place.

Tossing and turning in the dark, Quatre resisted sleep until it took him, though he realized it didn't matter and he would wake up there just the same.


	3. Chapter 3

The oasis was awake long before dawn, preparing for the day of trading and sale ahead before the two caravans parted ways and moved on. The smoke of cooking fires drifted up into the starry darkness as breakfast was prepared.

Quatre was awake as well, though he was not normally such an early riser.

He wished as he did every morning for a proper bath, though he was used enough now to the eternal dust of the desert which clung to his skin. A bucket of water had already been delivered to his wagon, and he washed himself as best he could with a cloth; water was precious in the desert, even at an oasis. By the time he dressed in the signature white robes of his affiliation, the sun was beginning to peek over the tops of the dunes.

It was a day much like many others which had come before, but at the same time it was not. The careful balance between his two worlds, his two selves, had been fundamentally upset. He did not know where Trowa was, but for the moment he didn't care; he didn't look forward to speaking to him here in this world, or even to find he'd made some kind of mistake - though he doubted it.

The heavy curtain at the back of his wagon was pushed aside, and the slave - Trowa, he corrected himself - entered on his knees, bearing a tray of food which he placed before Quatre. He began to back away.

"Please, stay," Quatre told him, and he stopped, kneeling, head still bowed. "You are not my slave. You are not anyone's slave. I free you; go."

"I refuse," he repeated placidly. In any world besides this, Quatre might have considered throwing the tray at him for being so contrary; but his training was against such violence. Instead, he took a deep breath and tried a different tactic.

"If you think I'm your master, then how can you refuse me?" He didn't like admitting this point, that for the moment he did own him, but it was the only other argument he could think of in his despair.

"It is any slave's right to refuse freedom," he replied, and said no more.

"But freedom is what any slave wants!"

"I am content to serve you, master."

Quatre had to close his eyes and take several more deep breaths before continuing.

"Don't call me 'master.' If you must call me anything, call me by my name. And stop looking at the floor." It sounded too much like an order to him, but he couldn't help it; if Trowa would only follow orders, then that was what he must give.

He raised his face slightly, his eyes now level with Quatre's chest. "I do not know your name."

Quatre nearly despaired, but then saw his chance to discover the truth. "Don't play with me," he scolded again. "You know my name - it's the same here as there. And when I say stop looking at the floor, I mean look at my face when you speak to me." Quatre felt as though he were chastening a naughty child more than anything else.

"As you wish... Quatre," he replied as he raised his eyes to meet his master's.

Quatre let out a long sigh, and then smiled. The first hurdle had been jumped. Suddenly, the savory smell of the tray's contents drifted up to him and he realized that he had not eaten dinner the night before, only a few small pastries.

"Have you eaten yet, Trowa?"

"No," he replied quietly, and Quatre noticed that he did not contest the name, though he had said last night that he had none - the same, Quatre remembered, as when they had first met in the other world.

"Then come and share mine."

Quatre expected anything but the flat-out refusal he was offered.

Trowa had bowed his head again. "That is not proper. With your permission, I will go."

He considered offering his own refusal in return, and for a moment they were caught in silent deadlock, the unwilling master and the slave; but Quatre had had enough of arguments for the morning. "Go, then," he acknowledged with a wave of his hand.

* * *

The following days in the desert passed in relative silence between them, save for Quatre's habitual offerings of freedom - once in the morning, once before bed - and Trowa's constant refusal. Days in the other world passed similarly as he waited for Trowa and Wufei to return to the safehouse so that he could talk to Trowa directly, though by now he knew that it was probably useless. If he couldn't change Trowa's mind in one world, how could he expect to change it in another?

* * *

"What are you going to tell him?"

"He'll figure it out," Trowa replied, flipping through the channels on the beat-up hotel TV without paying attention to them..

"And if he doesn't?" Wufei asked, lounging on the bed opposite. "I suppose I shouldn't even ask, should I? That's your problem, not mine. I don't want to cross these things, these worlds."

"You say that, but you told me."

Wufei shrugged. "Failsafe, I guess, from stopping me from doing something stupid. And to stop me from thinking I wasn't the only crazy one."

"He's had to have told Duo and Heero."

"They can do as they like, as long as they don't expect me to get involved. They are not the same world. We aren't obligated to get involved. Quatre finding you was simply a fluke. If you hadn't known each other here, he wouldn't have given you a second look there, I guarantee it. But I still think it's a bit stupid of you to refuse him like that. If things had gone the same way but you hadn't known each other here, you would have accepted your freedom without a second thought."

"There are those who exist for no other purpose but to excel at what they are, and would reject their freedom in favor of serving," Trowa responded.

"Maybe those who are treated well, but that's not most slaves," Wufei countered.

"I can understand Quatre's position perfectly. He's frustrated that I won't leave, because he is not supposed to acknowledge slavery - a fundamentally skewed approach even in that world - but I can't blame him for that. He simply doesn't understand that he's the kind of person anyone would happily serve, if he'd let them, and that I won't give that up for the unknown. I can't. There, it's who I am."

"Then tell that to him, not me," Wufei retorted.

Trowa shrugged. "I will, if he asks. But I think he already knows he can't change my mind."

"He'll ask anyway. He's not the kind of person who will be satisfied with just 'no'. He'll have to have his explanation. But can you be as frank with him as you are with me? Or am I going to have to explain it to him for you? You always give him more credit then he's worth. He's goddamn head over heels for you and all the two of you can do is mince around the point!"

"It's not my fault," Trowa replied mildly, and turned the TV off.

"It's both your faults."

"I'm going to bed."

"You're avoiding the question."

Trowa ignored him and climbed under the covers with his back to Wufei.

"Fine, have it your way. It's not my problem," he said with a scowl, then turned out the light and went to bed.


	4. Chapter 4, Flashback Part 1

_**Two Months Earlier**_

Occasionally he'd browse the slave market, though it wasn't by any means a habit and he had no use for slaves.

"Can I interest you in some exotic Tsothian girls today, sir? Fresh spoils of war, harvested for just cause!" The merchant eyed him shrewdly. "No? Perhaps your tastes run otherwise? I have some fine boys as well..."

"Prisoners make the worst slaves of all," he answered tritely, "and yours seem to be rather apathetic." From their cages the slaves did not stare at him nor beg like some others; they merely sat, their narrow brown eyes downcast, and offered no resistance. He didn't like them, and he wanted to move on, but one cage caught his eye. "You should take better care of them," he said. "That one back there looks near to death." It wasn't pity that made him say it; it was merely a statement.

"Ah, it doesn't matter if he does. That one has been nothing but a thorn in my side, and refuses to eat. Perhaps if he were in the care of an excellent master such as yourself, he would recover..."

"I have no interest in paying twice. To hire a healer's services would likely cost just as much as you're charging."

"Not so, not so. As I have said, he is a thorn in my side, and it matters not to me. I would rather recoup some loss than pay a fee for disposing of the body."

"Then you would have no problem selling him to me for that price."

"The man jests!" the merchant howled. "That is much, much too low. I have brought him a long ways."

"Yet you said he will not eat, so surely you have lost nothing on that. I will give you five silvers to take him off your hands, to prevent you spending one if he dies."

"Never have I parted with a slave for so little... but it is as you say. You will either spend five times that much for a healer or else another silver to get rid of him; I can either gain five or lose one. I will accept your offer, though it pains me. Come in and let us sign the documents."

Treize followed the merchant into his curtained stall, wondering all the while why he had made such a decision. He did not need nor want a slave, and certainly not a troublesome one, but there was a subtle _something_ he recognized emanating from the dying prisoner's cage and he hoped he was not mistaken. If he was not, then the merchant was unknowingly taking a massive loss - and this was the thought which pleased him.

The documents were signed, and Treize paid the paltry sum of five silvers.

"How will you take him? He certainly cannot walk," the merchant said.

"I will carry him; I doubt he weighs much. I have a carriage waiting at the end of the street."

"As you will," the merchant answered gleefully, and unlocked the cage. "Take him, then."

As Treize reached into the cage to grasp the young man's arm, he knew he had not been wrong, and he understood much of the problem. His expression, however, belied nothing, and he pulled the unconscious slave out by the arm and hoisted him - gentler, now - over a shoulder.

"Thank you kindly for your business," the merchant called out after him as he left, but Treize had no other thoughts than for his prize. He could sense the badly-woven shackles which restrained the young man's magic, and likely caused him a great deal of pain. The merchant had neglected - and lost - a great jewel.

* * *

Arriving home at his estate, Treize got straight to work. He did not send for a healer, but took the young man to his study and laid him out on the rug. The slave stank, days of filth clinging to him, but Treize knew there was not time enough to get him cleaned up; the longer the bonds chafed, the more damage they would do.

He rolled up his sleeves and got to work, unwinding the invisible binding slowly. The pace was agonizing as he picked away at the rough tangles of the magic, and he cursed a thousand times the untrained oaf who'd done such damage. His housekeeper came and went, bringing him food and drink, but did not ask questions.

It took him several hours of painstaking work to finally unwind the last of the bonds, and the results were pleasing to him. The lines of pain had disappeared from the young man's face, and his induced sleep was peaceful now. Treize took a short break to eat and refresh himself, and then got back to work. As he had said, prisoners of war sold into slavery were hardest to control, and a sorcerer even more so. He bound the young man's magic back up with his own - something much more subtle and graceful, like strong silk rather than crude twine. It took him much less time, only perhaps twenty minutes, and at then end he sat back and surveyed his handiwork with satisfaction. A healer would not be necessary after all.

He called his housekeeper in to take the young man, to clean him up and care for him, and went himself to bathe and then to bed.

* * *

"How is he?"

"He seems much better today. I gave him a drink, then he went back to sleep. Seemed a little feverish and disoriented."

"If he'll eat, he shouldn't have too much - if that slave trader is to be believed, he hasn't eaten in a while."

"That's where you got him? I wondered..."

"It wasn't my intention, but I couldn't pass him up. The trader had no idea what he was."

"I don't know anything of magic, so I'll take your word on that," she replied, and looked out the window wistfully while cleaning off the table. "Poor thing. What's his story?"

"Prisoner of war, if that's to be believed," Treize replied to his housekeeper. "But somebody knew what he was and bound him - badly. Another day and he would have been dead."

"But is he...dangerous?" she asked nervously.

"I don't think he'll bother you," he replied mildly. "I've bound his magic so he can't use it, but he could still attack."

"He's so thin from starvation, but it does seem like he's got some muscle on him," she replied. "I wouldn't put it past him."

"It will take him a while to recover. It's probably best if I don't see him until then. Do your best to make friends with him, or at least show him a kindness. The more he trusts you the better. If he asks you questions, answer them honestly. Don't give him any reason to doubt you or mistrust you," Treize told her.

"As you say," she answered with a bob of her head. "Such a poor thing... do you know his name?"

"No. Please ask him for it when you can, then tell me," Treize replied.

"Very well. I'll go check on him again after I've cleaned up, wake him up and get him to eat a bit of something."

"Thank you. Let me know how he's doing after."


	5. Chapter 5, Flashback Part 2

He awoke in a haze of confusion, but this time was different. In his previous waking moments he remembered nothing but the pain, constant agony like fire against his flesh, but a fire he couldn't control, a fire which burned him rather than kept him warm.

This was different. That pain was gone, only a lingering memory, and was replaced by the normal aching pains of the flesh. He could deal with this pain; it was concrete, familiar, and it gave him an anchor to reality. He was hungry, and thirsty; more normal sensations, and the ones which drove him to waking as the smell of food drifted to him.

"There you are now, then! Hungry? Do you remember me? No? I didn't think you were quite together earlier when I gave you a drink."

He thought about it, and thought maybe he did remember, but it was a very vague memory. He didn't want to think. He didn't want to do anything more than lay there, and perhaps lose consciousness again.

"Can you sit up? Let's get you sitting up and get some food in you."

He wasn't in any position to argue as she plumped the pillows and pulled him up into a sitting position. In any other instance he might have felt absurd or humiliated to have been fed by someone else, but he was now at the point of hunger and pain where he was past caring.

"That's a good boy. I'll have you feeling better in no time," she promised him cheerfully. "Back to sleep with you, I suppose? Don't blame you, poor thing. Don't tax yourself. If you need me just ring the bell here and I'll come running." She took the pillows away and helped him lay down again, then left.

For a few minutes he thought about trying to think, but even that was too much and he fell back into a healing slumber.

* * *

The next time he woke up, he felt much better. The pain was slowly receding, and he began to recall fragments of what had happened. The attack on the castle, his capture, the agonizing pain, the floor of the slave cage. He wasn't there now, and the pain was gone; but he did not know whether he had been saved or condemned.

He struggled up into a sitting position, and rang the bell the woman had indicated. There was a glass of water on the sideboard, but he had no strength to reach for it let alone lift the glass to drink.

As promised she appeared almost immediately.

"Feeling better now? Very good! Hungry? Thirsty? Probably both, I'd wager. Here you are," she said, picking the glass up and holding it to his lips. "There you go. Not too much, now, take your time."

He would have hoped for more, but she took it from him and sat it back down on the sideboard. "Hungry too?"

He managed a small nod, an exercise in pain.

"Oh, dear. You're hurting still too, aren't you? I didn't even think of that - of course being thrown around wasn't good for you. I'll get you something for that as well." She turned to go.

"No," he said, his voice quiet - and she turned back to him.

"No? You... don't want anything for your pain?" she looked confused.

"No," he affirmed in barely a whisper. "Just food."

"If you say so, dear," she answered with a frown. "I'll be right back then."

She returned, and fed him, and he felt as though his head was much clearer, and he could feel his inner warmth again.

"Where am I?" was the first question he asked her.

"In Amoria, in the city of Dharthing," she replied promptly. "You're from Tsoth, aren't you? It's quite far..."

"Yes," he affirmed, and then fell silent.

She opened her mouth to ask him his name as Treize as bid her, but something about his gaze made her hesitate and she changed her mind, saying instead, "Well, I'm sure you're still very tired. Rest up, get well, and when you've recovered your master will want to see you."

_Your master_. He didn't like the way it sounded, though she said it so lightly, but it told him more about his predicament than he wanted. He didn't question her further, and she left him to his thoughts.

Reaching inside himself to that inner warmth, he tried to pull it to the surface - and found it was blocked. He almost cursed out loud, but held his tongue. He knew what the pain from before had been, after the fact, and he knew what he faced now and was enraged. His new "master" was either extremely rich or a sorcerer himself. It was no mere chance he'd been saved from the slave market.

This new knowledge also scared him greatly; this was not merely something he could escape from any longer, thoughts he had already entertained during his conversation with the lady - he assumed her something of a maid - and added a new level of complexity to this game.

* * *

The next week passed in boredom and bother as he focused on recovering from his ordeal. The bother came from the housekeeper, constantly checking up on him and attempting to engage him in small talk to which his answer was silence or a trite yes/no. What he learned from her did not amount to much, but he refused to question her though it was clear she was happy to answer him. His silence affronted her but he didn't care. She was only hired help, after all, and simply because he was a prisoner did not mean he had to give up his dignity.

When he was alone and awake, he focused all his energies on exercises. It was agony at first, and the most he could do was try to raise his arms and bend his legs in bed. He always kept a careful ear out for the housekeeper's footsteps in the hall. After three days he could stand on his own again, and could save himself further embarrassment when having to use the chamber pot. With all his time devoted to such recovery, it did not take him long to return to health.

He knew he could not simply escape, not with his magic bound, but that did not stop him from rising late that night after the housekeeper had made her last visit and testing the doorknob. It was not locked. The hallway outside was dark. Carefully, silently, he slipped out of his room and padded down the hallway, taking note of his surroundings. The hallway, he found, was open, bordering an interior courtyard and garden. The place was dark, save for a single window which flickered with dim candlelight. It was this light which drew him across the open yard to the opposite walkway and through a pair of screened doors to an inside hallway to the left of the lit window. The first door, from which candlelight came, was open but a crack; he approached it silently and peeked inside.

The man's back was to him, but there was no doubt in his mind that this man was the one she had referred to as his "master." Even with his own magic bound, his sense of it was not dulled. This man was a sorcerer, and the one who had bound him. He watched silently as the man completed his work - a chalk pentagram for whatever he was working on - and stood up to survey it.

"So you've decided to come out of your own accord, have you?" the man said without turning around. "No use lurking - come in and let's have a proper introduction."

Caught, he cursed silently and took a step back, but heard the man's footsteps as he turned and came towards the door, then paused as the door opened.


	6. Chapter 6, Flashback Part 3

They stood there and stared at each other, both struck at the same moment by the shock of recognition. Not simply the sudden remembrance of "I met you once long ago," but the shock of "I met you once in another world" and all the memories of that world included, the realization of finding something thought a dream was real.

"Wu...fei..."

"_You_."

They spoke at the same time, one voice surprised and one bitter. Treize smiled.

"You clean up nicely. I hadn't even recognized you when I found you. Well... this is rather interesting, isn't it?"

Wufei, his back against the opposite wall by this time, did not answer; he was still busy trying to grasp the meaning of the moment. Treize crossed the hall to stand before him, and reached out to him, but Wufei shied away.

"Please, don't be like that," he said as he caught Wufei's shoulder. "Come in, let's sit down and talk."

Wufei twisted out of his grasp, but followed reluctantly as Treize ushered him into his study and offered him a seat in one of the two deep leather chairs off in one corner. Treize lit a lamp, and then with a dismissive gesture extinguished the other candles as he settled down into the opposite chair.

"I think we should probably talk about what's going on here before we get into philosophizing on why there seem to be two worlds where we both exist," Treize started out. "Point of fact: you have no reason to hate me here because I saved your life."

"Oh, I'm sure I have plenty of reason. If you're trying to please me, then unbind me and give me my freedom," Wufei shot back.

Treize tsk'd at him. "You know I can't do that. I don't know you won't try to kill me anyway the moment I do, and then wouldn't I look the fool? The very last thing I want is to be your enemy here, Wufei, but I do understand how you feel. I expected it - I just hadn't expected that we'd _know_ each other."

Wufei answered with sullen silence, and Treize continued: "I do want to know, though - what happened? How did you end up a prisoner? The trader I bought you from said war, but I don't pay much attention to the news and politics here."

Wufei was silent again, and Treize waited for him to speak. It came slowly to him, painfully, but at length he closed his eyes and began to speak. "It wasn't a war - it was a, a massacre, a slaughter, a..." he stopped, and struggled for the words to express himself. "Our stronghold was attacked without warning, overwhelmed in the middle of the night. I was awake at the time... if I hadn't been awake, I would probably be dead. I spread the alarm, but it didn't do much good. I was one of the last ones left fighting, but in the end... I don't remember what happened to me. I couldn't do anything, I failed my people..."

By the end of his tale, Wufei's voice was almost a whisper, his knees drawn up to his chest, head buried. Treize rose from his seat and bent down to slowly slide his arms around Wufei in a tentative embrace. He didn't offer any words of consolation; they were unnecessary. Wufei said nothing, but neither did he try to push Treize away until after several minutes. Silently, Treize withdrew and returned to his seat.

"I have failed my people," Wufei repeated. "I shouldn't be alive. I should have died rather than-"

"Say that again and I'll hit you," Treize interrupted him. "I don't care about your so-called 'pride' or 'honor.' Running away from life simply because you failed at something you never could have predicted is stupid and shameful and pointless and I won't allow it." He sat back with a sigh and shook his head. "It's late, and I've had a long day. Go back to your room and we'll talk in the morning."

Wufei made no move to get up for several moments, but then stood and padded out of Treize's study.

* * *

"I want him to have lunch with me," he told the housekeeper after breakfast. "Let him take a proper bath, find him some clothes."

"I'm not sure he's quite up to-"

"If he's well enough to be sneaking about at night, he's quite well enough to have lunch with me," Treize told her calmly. "We spoke last night. He'll behave, I think."

"If you say so... I'll go wake him up then if he's still sleeping," she said, and bustled off.

* * *

Treize thought he might have misjudged his condition when Wufei came into the dining room for lunch; in the firelight he'd seemed fine, but in daylight he was still pale and thin. He gestured for Wufei to take the seat across from him.

"Sleep well?"

Wufei merely fixed him with a silent stare. They ate in silence, with the housekeeper fretting about around them while they took notice only of each other. Afterwards, they withdrew to the drawing room to talk; the door was shut, and the two of them were alone.

"Have you thought about what I told you last night?"

"Maybe." Wufei kept his face turned towards the window; Treize took a seat on the couch next to him.

"I understand you're angry at yourself, and at me-"

"Then let me go!" Wufei shouted, whipping around to face him, fury in his features. "Unbind me, and give me my freedom!"

"Well," Treize said, and stood up. "Instead of shouting, let's settle this like gentlemen: with steel. If you win, I'll grant you your freedom and dissolve the bonds." He turned around to look at Wufei, and felt a small trickle of fear. "Why... are you smiling like that?"

"I'll tell you... after I win," Wufei said with a smirk. "Bring it on."

Treize stood there for a few moments in a deadlock, worrying that he'd made some sort of gross miscalculation; but he'd crossed swords with Wufei once before, in the other world, and there had been no contest. He finally turned and headed for the drawing room door.

"Meet me in the courtyard, then," he said, and went to his study first to fetch his set of dueling swords.

* * *

Wufei was waiting on a stone bench in the shade, unconcerned, and stood up when Treize arrived. Treize set the long rectangular case down on the bench and undid the clasps with care, revealing its contents - two thin silver swords with richly engraved guards. "Please, examine them, and pick whichever you prefer," he said, stepping aside.

Wufei did as he was bid. "Very fancy," he commented, "but they seem well-used."

"They have been passed down in my family for several generations... now that you mention it, the engravings are very similar to my grandfather's dueling pistols in the other world. Interesting..." Treize mused. "I wonder how close these two worlds really are."

"Not close at all," Wufei replied with a smirk, a remark which boded ill again, and he made his choice.

"What will we fight until? First blood? Disarmament? Until one of us yields?"

"Until one of us yields," Treize echoed, and picked up the other sword. "But please, don't push yourself too hard; you're not yet fully recovered."

"Don't worry about me - and don't you dare go 'easy' on me."

The sardonic smile on Wufei's face told Treize almost everything he needed to know about the outcome, and he was afraid; but he couldn't back out then or he'd look like a fool. He reminded himself that Wufei was not the anger-driven teen he had fought in the other world, but a young man of twenty - there seemed to be a five-year jump between the two worlds. Five more years might make some difference in his skills, but it shouldn't make Wufei so obviously confident.

"Shall we begin?"

They moved to the center of the courtyard, addressed the formalities, and began.


	7. Chapter 7, Flashback Part 4

Sparks flew as steel clashed with steel. They tread lightly at first, testing each other, circling; but once Wufei went on the offense, it ceased to be a contest. Treize found himself beaten back by the whirlwind that was Wufei, but he had no opportunity to appreciate his opponent's finesse. It took Wufei less than a minute to disarm him. Treize made no move to retrieve his sword from the ground.

"Well?"

"I yield."

Wufei laughed. "No you don't. I won't simply let you back out of this fight."

"You've proven your point. I'm no match for you in this world."

"Pick up your sword and fight me like a man, then. I told you, don't hold back!"

Treize did as he was bid, and went to face his humiliation.

* * *

Wufei was not satisfied with Treize's defeat until they had been fighting for nearly twenty minutes. Treize had been disarmed, checkmated, and nicked more times than he could count, and Wufei was beginning to feel his limit approaching. It was true that he was still hurting from his recent mistreatment.

Treize was on the ground where he had been pinned, and Wufei sat down across from him, breathing heavily. "Let me tell you your mistake," he said. "When I fought you then, I had first picked up a sword barely three years before. Here, I have been holding a sword _since_ I was three."

Treize chuckled. "I should have seen it coming," he said as he stood up. He held out his hand to Wufei, who merely regarded it coolly.

"Are you going to hold up your end of the bargain now?"

"Of course," Treize replied, and Wufei allowed him to help him up. "But first, can I ask you something?"

"What?"

"Where will you go? You no longer have a home to return to - and even if you went back to Tsoth, you'd be persecuted for being a sorcerer."

Wufei didn't reply, and handed his sword back to Treize.

"Stay here with me." Wufei opened his mouth to say something, but Treize hurried to cut him off. "As you said, once I unbind you and set you free, you have no reason to hate me in this world. You don't have any money, and no place to go. Stay here with me and study; I think we can learn much from each other." He paused, then added, "at least stay while you think about it." With a flick of his wrist, he loosed the bonds with which he'd bound Wufei's magic. "I give you your freedom."

* * *

_**One Month Later**_

Wufei never voiced his decision, but after a month had passed it was clear he wasn't going anywhere. They had come to a certain understanding - to pretend that the two worlds were completely independent of each other and not speak of the other world except in the most mundane and speculative terms. The denial didn't suit Treize, but he agreed to it for Wufei's sake, and because it allowed them to become closer.

Much closer.

Treize spared no expense in his efforts to cultivate his friendship with Wufei; but Wufei was not ignorant of his overtures and thus he proceeded slowly and cautiously. He waited patiently for his chance.

It came one afternoon when the two of them were walking through the marketplace, talking together and not paying attention to what roads they took on their way home. This was how they found themselves in the slave merchant's quarter, much the same as Treize had on that fateful day when they had been brought together.

Wufei noticed first where their wanderings had brought them, and stopped. Treize kept walking for a moment before he noticed what had drawn Wufei's attention away. He had no eye for faces; he did not know if it was the same merchant he had rescued Wufei from, but it didn't matter. A fat, balding man in rich clothes was there, with a young Tsothian girl on a chain - his new purchase. He jerked on the chain to lead her away, and she stumbled; he yelled at her, something incoherent.

Treize put his hand on Wufei's shoulder to pull him away. Underneath his hand, he felt Wufei trembling with rage.

"Let's go," he said, and pulled Wufei back down the street and around the corner. Once they were off the street, they stopped.

"Did you know her?" It was a token of conversation.

"No. But she was one of my people," Wufei replied through clenched teeth and with clenched fists. He leaned up against the wall and put his head in his hands for a moment; and then he lowered them and began walking again. Treize followed, and said nothing; again, there was nothing he could say.

When they arrived back home, they retired to the library. Wufei sat down on the couch and took up a book laying there, examining the cover in a distracted way. Treize sat down beside him.

"Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," Wufei replied promptly. "I know what will happen to her. If she does not kill herself and would rather suffer imprisonment, then she is a coward and does not deserve to call herself one of us."

"That's..." Treize began, but fell silent.

"If you had been anyone else - for instance, a cruel master or stupid - I would have done the same."

"No... No, I don't think you would have." As he had done on the night when they had first met in his study, Treize slowly slid his arms around Wufei, drawing him close, Wufei's back to his chest. "You would rather have killed your master than kill yourself, and lived - but not out of cowardice. And if the rest of your people are like you, then I think they would do the same as well. Someone who is cruel to others gets what's coming to them in the end, whether at their own hands or at the hands of those they have wronged."

He rested his chin lightly on Wufei's shoulder, his nose touching Wufei's ear and his breath hot on it, waiting for any sign of resistance. He found none.

"Let her chose her own path, and you take yours," he whispered, and let his lips brush against Wufei's cheek and down to the line of his jaw. With one hand Treize reached up to gently turn Wufei's head towards his own, and their eyes met. The expression upon Wufei's face was deep and unfathomable, but the color on his cheeks was unmistakable. Still, he asked.

"May I?"

Wufei gave his consent with silence. The kiss was gentle, uncomplicated. When it broke, Wufei twisted in Treize's arms towards him, and buried his face against Treize's chest. The book on his lap fell to the floor and was forgotten in silence.

* * *

It took Wufei another week after that to mention anything at all to anyone in the other world, and he chose Trowa. He trusted Trowa to listen without making any judgment to matters of such importance.

Quatre and Duo were out, having gone to the mall or some such; Heero was in his room working on his something. Trowa and Wufei were downstairs watching the news, and when it was over Wufei broached the subject.

"Can I ask a favor?"

"Of course," Trowa replied. "What do you need?"

"Speaking, possibly hypothetically - and possibly not - about the existence of another world we go to when we sleep..." He trailed off and began to watch Trowa's face very, very carefully. His normal, calm poker-face went through several expressions in a few moments, from shock to surprise to disbelief to contemplation.

"Figured," Wufei said.

"Have you mentioned this to anyone else?" Trowa asked once he had gotten past the initial shock of realization.

"No. This is the first time I've opened my mouth about it here. There is one other person who knows. I don't know if he's told anyone else."

"And they are...?"

"I'd... rather not say." Wufei stood up and began to pace in front of the couch. "Anyway, this is favor I need to ask of you - just someone to tell to stop me from doing something potentially rather stupid."

"And it has to do with this person, I gather?"

"Yes." Wufei paused in his pacing and sat back down. "I can't tell you who, but I just needed this failsafe - someone to tell in case I might... get the urge to go see them."

"It's not much of a failsafe if you can go running off without telling me," Trowa pointed out.

"I know, but it's the most I can do without telling you the who," Wufei replied, and bit his lip. "It's taken me a while to tell anyone because I really don't believe the two worlds should be mixed."

"I understand," Trowa affirmed. "I won't tell the other three, but if they find out on their own..."

"If it happens, it happens. Whatever the connection, it sure as hell isn't natural or common or the whole world would know about it already."

"True," Trowa murmured, "Though I'm not sure I agree with your reasoning, I'll agree not to speak about it unless that happens."

"Thank you," Wufei said, and fell silent. "Anyway, if at any time I think about going to see this person, I'll come tell you and you can talk me out of it."

"Fine with me. I'll do what I can."

_**End Flashback**_


	8. Chapter 8

Quatre worried to himself - without talking to Duo about it again - until Trowa and Wufei returned from their mission Tuesday afternoon. The minute Trowa stepped in the door Quatre attached himself and began hovering around him. He followed Trowa up to his room and cornered him there, waiting patiently until Trowa had unpacked before he started his questioning.

"Why?" Quatre began, as Trowa finished getting settled back in and sat down on the edge of his bed. Trowa didn't reply for a moment, but Quatre knew he wasn't just playing a game this time - he knew that Trowa knew damn well what he was asking.

"It's who I am there. That's all there is to it."

"That's not an answer," Quatre accused him, but Trowa continued to avoid his gaze by staring out the window.

"I can't talk this way with you there - it's not possible. Try to put yourself in my shoes. There, I've been a slave my entire life. I was born into it; it's all I know. It's not easy to change my entire life, my entire being, into something else. Even if I were free, I would still act like a slave because it's all I know. I am truly happier remaining that way."

It was Quatre's turn to answer with silent reflection. "But what about my position? I can't acknowledge you as a slave - or as my slave - because I'm supposed to deny your existence. You won't let me free you, and I can't get rid of you either. And I don't like thinking of you in that way, either."

"Then let me remain a paradox. If I'm a slave that can't be free, and they don't acknowledge slavery, then the obvious answer is that I don't exist," Trowa replied wryly.

"Don't say that!" Quatre scolded him. "That's not something to joke about!"

"I'm sorry," Trowa apologized, but Quatre didn't believe him - he knew that Trowa had meant it, and it shook him.

Quatre sat down on the end of the bed and gazed at the back of the closed bedroom door. "What are we going to do? We'll be in the city soon, and I'll have to go to the healer's temple there... they'll find out about you. I don't know what they'll do to you... or to me."

"Don't worry about it," Trowa replied. "If they are anything like you - you're one of them, after all - then they should understand, even if they don't like the idea."

"It's awkward talking about this here," Quatre reflected quietly.

Trowa shrugged. "No help for it. The worlds are different, and so are we, to a degree. You've told Duo and Heero about it, haven't you?" Trowa asked, suddenly changing the subject.

"Yes, of course. Did you tell Wufei?"

"He knew," Trowa replied. After a short pause for reflection, he added, "I already knew."

"What? Since when? Why didn't either of you say anything?"

"He told me a few weeks ago. You know how Wufei can be... strange about certain subjects. I agreed that I wouldn't say anything," he said with a shrug.

Quatre sighed. "So that's why you didn't see surprised when you saw me, when I was."

"Yes," Trowa affirmed.

"But you should have at least said something," he accused, "instead of making me worry that I had the wrong person!"

Trowa offered no explanation in defense of his actions, and remained silent.

"I can't stop offering you your freedom."

"I know that. I don't mind it."

"You're almost as bad here as you are there!" Quatre remarked in exasperation, and stood up.

Trowa offered him a small smile. "I am who I am," he said, and with that Quatre shook his head and left the room, feeling as though they had not really touched on the heart of the problem and had resolved nothing.

* * *

"Did you talk to Trowa already?" Duo asked as Quatre came downstairs to the living room.

"Yeah."

"Figure everything out?"

"No," Quatre said with a sigh as he sat down on the opposite end of the couch.

"Sucks."

Quatre thought that pretty much summed up the situation. "I don't know what I'm going to do..."

"I'd help you, but hey, I don't know what the deal is if you won't tell me," Duo replied.

"Sorry... I mean, I understand now why he's being so stubborn about it, but that doesn't help anything if he won't change his mind! It's not that it bothers me, it's just what might happen to either of us when my superiors find out."

"What? Hm, healers are celibate, aren't they? Have you been sleeping around with Trowa over there?"

"What?" Quatre exclaimed, his face flushing bright red. "N-no! If I could, I would - I mean..." he trailed off, flustered.

"Christ, I was just kidding!" Duo laughed. "If you were getting laid there, I'd think that would carry over."

"Stop it!" Quatre squeaked, hiding his face in his hands.

"Aww, but you're cute when you're embarrassed! Loosen up and live a little, Quat. You're not gonna get Trowa any other way. Take the initiative!"

"You're one to talk... I don't see you taking your own advice with Heero."

"Oh, I'm working on it, believe me. It's a very delicate procedure, you see, and it can't be rushed. But I think you will be seeing - or _hearing_ - some results soon..." Duo promised with a sly grin. Quatre blushed anew at Duo's implied meaning, and Duo laughed with glee at his reaction. "You've just got to take your chances and make the leap. Be a little aggressive about it if you have to. I know you're not all sweet and angelic as you make yourself out to be; I've seen you take control of a situation like no one's business. You just have to do that with Trowa too."

"It's not that easy," Quatre insisted, but Duo wouldn't have any of his excuses.

"One of you is going to have to do something first, and I really don't think Trowa has that ability. I know you do, so it's gonna have to be you. Same thing goes for me and Heero - he sure as hell isn't going to make the first move, but unlike you and Trowa, he and I both know I'm gonna be the one to do it. It's just a matter waiting for the right moment."

"Like I said..."

"No excuses!" Duo reprimanded him. "When the moment comes, you gotta take it, otherwise your 'relationship' isn't gonna go anywhere. It's going to be stuck like it is right now, and when the war ends - providing we're all still alive - you're gonna separate, drift away, and ten, twenty, thirty years from now you're going to look back on this and think 'man, why the hell did I let my chance go?' And you're going to regret it for the rest of your life."

Quatre stared at Duo for a few long moments after he finished talking.

"What? Do I have something on my face?"

Quatre sighed and shook his head. "No. It's just... what you said is just so true, I never really thought about it that way... past how things are now, with all of us together like this. It almost seems like it's always been this way and always will be, but it won't, will it?"

"Not unless you step up and nab him now, nope, it won't," Duo replied.

"Thanks. Not what I wanted to hear - again - but thanks."

"That's what friends are for," Duo said with a grin. "I'm sure everything will work out."

"I hope so too."


	9. Chapter 9

Heero had lied; he was interested, but he didn't let it gnaw at him like other people might. Duo's promise to meet had been enough to take the edge off. He would find out eventually. He took special pains to remember where he was and where he was heading next, at least as far as his uncertainty would let him. A mercenary could never know where he would end up.

He told Duo these things, and they compared notes. They agreed on a city, the place Heero was heading and where his current job would end, and Duo promised to be there waiting for him.

As talkative and gossip-prone as Duo usually was, Heero wondered how he could possibly keep his mouth shut about a single thing this long. Besides his initial hint, he had given Heero nothing else, and they had not talked about it since except for a few words. It unsettled him, and he worried that he might be heading into something unexpected - but then again, he was used to the unexpected. It was his job to expect it.

* * *

Heero leaned against the wall outside the gate where he and the two other hired mercenaries had just delivered their charge and completed their job, and counted his money. They had parted ways without a second glance; they were comrades for the duration, and nothing more afterwards save for the common thread of their job. Perhaps they would meet again, perhaps not; and it did not matter either way. Such was the life of a soldier for hire.

He finished counting to his satisfaction, and went in search of a bed for the night and a hot meal. The road was long and hard, and never-ending; but for now he could wait before picking up another job. He had someone to meet before he could move on: Duo.

* * *

Duo waited until dusk - not that he needed to, because no one in their right mind would fuck with him, day or night - but because he liked the darkness; it was his nature.

"Hey, kid." The boy he addressed was a scrawny, dirty street urchin. The flash of gold coin in Duo's hand quelled the kid's fear immediately; nothing was more important to them than the next meal, and he was offering a couple. "Do me a favor?"

"Wha'chu need?" The kid's eyes followed the coin as he made it dance over his knuckles and between his fingers.

"I need a message delivered. I'll give you this to take it, and two more if you deliver it safely and come back to tell me so. And I'll know if you're lying... oh, I'll know."

He watched the kid shudder but refuse to back down. "Anyting you say, mister. I'll do it right quick. What's the message, an' who do I tell it to?"

"The Palisade, six o'clock tonight. That's your message."

"Palisade, six tonight," the kid repeated.

"Right. Now, there's a mercenary staying at that inn there, across the street," Duo said, and pointed at it. "Tall. Brown hair, blue eyes. A Caddean. You can't mistake him. Tell it to him."

"Caddean mercenary. Palisade, six tonight," the boy repeated again, nodding to himself.

"Good boy. One more thing: do _not_ tell him who sent you. Just the message, nothing more. Remember, two more if you do all this and come back."

The boy nodded, and snatched the coin from the air as Duo flipped it to him and eagerly scampered off across the street on his errand. Duo waited in the shadows and watched. It took but a minute for the boy to return and claim his payment in triumph. Duo watched him go off with a grim smile, then turned and disappeared back into the darkness to wait until six.

* * *

Heero didn't know what to think when the dirty urchin tugged on his sleeve, but he understood his words. "He said, the Palisade, six tonight."

"Who said?" The boy grinned and shook his head.

"Told me not to say!"

Heero shook his head as the kid disappeared back out the inn's door. He didn't need to ask, but he'd hoped maybe he'd be given a clue. The message could have come from no one but Duo, he knew that - it was the only message he was expecting.

Six was still an hour away, but the Palisade was on the other side of the city so Heero called for his bill, paid, and set off through the streets. Night was falling quickly; he stuck to the main thoroughfares even though he had no fear of the back streets and alleys.

The Palisade was a lavish building, a place for the rich merchants and other affluent persons to spend their nights in the city while they were there on business; and he wondered what kind of person Duo was that he could afford to meet him in such a place.

* * *

Heero felt very out of place as he entered the foyer of the Palisade. He'd changed out of his traveling clothes and into something nicer, but he still stuck out like a sore thumb - alone and armed. A female clerk approached him.

"You are Heero?"

He nodded.

"This way please." She turned and began walking away; Heero followed.

"What about my weapons?" he asked; it was customary, in such places, to disarm at the front desk before entering.

She glanced back at him with a curious expression, as if she expected him to already know the answer, but she didn't say anything except "Your excuse has been paid for."

Heero thought that very odd. Why would Duo bother to pay extra just to let him stay armed for their meeting? Was there something he was missing? Was it not Duo who had sent the boy with the message to meet him here? If it wasn't Duo... then who?

She led him up the stairs to the second floor and through the hallways towards the back of the building. Heero watched her carefully, and saw that she became increasingly nervous as they approached his destination.

"Here you are," she said, and gestured but made no move to knock on or open the door herself. Heero shrugged mentally to himself and turned the knob without bothering to knock. He opened the door.

Immediately, his hand flew from the doorknob to the hilt of his sword and he grasped it tightly. He knew now why he had been allowed to keep his weapon, and why the clerk seemed so nervous. Reclining upon a pile of cushions at the far end of a low table was the thing which had summoned him there: a shadow child.


	10. Chapter 10

Heero took a deep breath and loosened his hand from the hilt of his sword, but he didn't remove it. The shadow child remained seated, face hidden behind a black veil, but Heero could feel its eyes on him. He knew, somewhere in the rational part of his mind, that he hadn't been summoned here to be killed, because that wasn't how they worked.

"Come in, have a seat," came its voice from beneath the veil, and suddenly Heero knew he was fucked, because - strange though it sounded - the voice was unmistakably Duo's. He removed his hand from his sword and took an unsteady step into the room.

"You - bring up our dinner now."

Heero stood now almost at the end of the table; he heard the door close as the woman left to follow the orders she'd been given.

"Have a seat, make yourself comfortable," he said again, and gestured at the side of the table where there was another pile of cushions. Heero wasn't sure he liked the way the word 'comfortable' sounded coming from those lips. However, in order to take a seat, he would have to take of his sword; so he hesitated for a few moments, his hands resting on the clasp of his scabbard.

"Need some help with that?"

He didn't have to be asked twice. He unclasped it from his belt and came around the side of the table cautiously, step by step until he reached the cushions and took his seat slowly, never taking his eyes off that veiled face and grasping his scabbard tightly until he had to set it down on the floor next to him, close where he could reach it easily.

The shadow child watched him in silence. Heero refused to believe it could possibly be Duo, even though he recognized the sound of his voice; the shadow child could simply be playing with him. They had strange magic, the ability to play tricks on the mind, and Heero wouldn't trust his ears until he could see the face which went with it.

The shadow child rose slowly, almost lazily, to a sitting position, long, loose hair brushing against the cushions. Heero knew he could not go by that alone; the color was wrong, black, but all shadow children had long, black hair - the longer it was, the more successful assassinations they'd made. There came a knock upon the door, and it opened. Heero still did not take his eyes off that veiled face as four servants entered bearing the meal; they laid it out as quickly as they dared but without sloppiness, and departed just as quickly as they had come.

When the door closed again and the two of them were left alone, the night's game began.

The shadow child took up the bottle of wine and poured two glasses; then picked one up by the stem in his thin, spider-like fingers and held it out to Heero.

He hesitated, but reached out to take it; he tried to avoid touching the pale fingers, but still managed to brush against them - an electric sensation that made the hairs on the back of his neck prickle. He had expected them to be cold, but they were not.

The shadow child's mouth was just visible beneath the bottom edge of the veil, and it was twisted into a wry smile. "You seem surprised. For some reason, people seem to forget we're still human... now, drink," he said, picking up his own glass and bringing it up to his lips.

Heero finally took his eyes off the veiled face, and turned his attention to the wineglass in his hand. For the moment, he was more afraid of it than of the present company. Was it poisoned? He could not shake the feeling.

"What's the matter?" the too-familiar voice mocked him; the shadow child had already taken a drink of his own wine, lips brighter from the stain. "Drink it," he ordered again. "And if you can't, then get out of here."

The challenge was not lost on Heero; it wasn't "drink it or get out" - it was "trust me or get out." He didn't hesitate, but drank, and the wine was sweet. When he brought the glass back down from his lips, the shadow child reached up and removed his veil. Heero could not doubt any more; it was Duo.

He reached forwards to pluck a grape from off a plate and popped it into his mouth as Heero watched in almost morbid fascination. "This food isn't going to eat itself," he commented, and Heero relaxed a fraction; that was more the Duo he was familiar with.

* * *

They ate in silence, and when they were finished Duo put his veil back on and rang for service; the servants came and cleaned off the table with scared efficiency; and once the door had closed behind them Duo once again removed his veil.

"Not very talkative tonight, are you?" Duo asked him with a wry smile, then rose to his feet with slow, fluid movements and approached Heero. He sat, frozen, not even daring to reach for his sword as Duo knelt on the cushions next to him. "I can fix that," he whispered in Heero's ear, his fingers stroking Heero's cheek and sending another warm, electrifying shiver through him.

"We're the same person here and there, but at the same time, there are fundamental differences... and here, when there's something I want, I don't fuck around. I _take it_," he said, stressing the last little bit; and although it was a whisper, Heero heard it very clearly. Duo didn't give him any time to contemplate it, though, because as soon as he'd said it the only thing in the world which existed for Heero were Duo's hands and mouth, stroking and touching and kissing him, and he surrendered all his fear in return for passion and pleasure and pain.

* * *

Heero woke slowly, the experience still vivid in his mind. For a few minutes he simply lay there in bed, staring at the ceiling and touching himself beneath the covers, until he shuddered and closed his eyes before opening them again and getting up to head to the shower.

Afterward, he made his way downstairs warily, alert for any sign of Duo. He scanned the kitchen before descending from the safety of the staircase, but Duo was more crafty than that and was standing toward the end of the hallway sipping his coffee.

"Morning, babe," he said, and leered at Heero over the edge of his mug. At this, Trowa coughed, Quatre giggled behind his hand, and Wufei made a vague noise of disgust as Duo sauntered up to Heero and wrapped his free arm around Heero's waist before taking a drink and giving him a quick peck on the cheek. "Sleep well?"

"I didn't hear anything..." Quatre ventured as Duo left a very embarrassed Heero on his lonesome and sat down at the table.

"There, not here," Duo replied. "And if you'd been nearby, you would have known. Probably kept the whole damn place up with his screams," he added with a wide grin.

"That's enough, thank you," Trowa intervened.

Duo shrugged. "We'll try to be quieter here... won't we?" he asked as he turned; Trowa and Wufei exchanged glances. "Come on, have a seat," he addressed Heero again, and took a piece of toast for himself as Heero pulled up a chair and sat down in silence, head down.

"I told you I'd make my move soon," Duo told Quatre with a wink. "Now it's your guys' turn. And what about you?" he asked, pointing his half-eaten toast at Wufei. "You need to get laid most of all."

"Leave me out of this," Wufei responded abruptly. "I don't want any part in your fooling around."

"Aw, stop being such a spoil-sport, Wu," Duo replied, and took another bite of his toast. "You're just upset because you're the odd one out."

"That has nothing to do with it," he retorted. "I don't need something as distracting as a relationship to worry about."

"Christ, lighten up a little. Get out and have some fun! Just because we're trying to fight a war doesn't mean we have to give up everything for it -"

"Leave him alone, Duo," Trowa finally spoke up in Wufei's defense. "Let him do what he wants."

"Spoil-sport," Duo muttered again as he leaned back in his chair. "Wanna go to the mall with me later, Quatre?"

"Sure," Quatre replied, and that was the end of the breakfast conversation.

* * *

Duo came into the room and sat down on Heero's bed. "Hey, uh... I'm sorry about this morning, by the way," he started, and then fell silent.

Heero paused in his typing, hands resting unmoving on the keys, but didn't answer.

"Pay attention to me when I'm talking to you!" Duo complained. "Get over here." Without a word, Heero rose and did as he was bid. "Have a seat." Duo patted the bed beside him; Heero sat. "Are you mad at me?"

"No," Heero answered, and Duo grinned.

"I didn't freak you out too much there, did I?" he asked. Heero was silent. Duo reached up to slide his hand over Heero's neck and up to his cheek, and turned his face towards him. "I'll be gentle here... unless you want it rough, of course," he added with a cheeky grin as Heero scowled. Duo slipped his other arm around Heero's waist and kissed him on the mouth, slow and sweet.

"Better?" he asked. Heero nodded. "Good. But I'm still on top," he replied with a smirk, and pushed Heero down onto the bed.


	11. Chapter 11

When the caravan finally reached its destination Quatre was ecstatic, even if he did not show it. The weeks in the desert had worn him down, and more so since he had found Trowa; half the time he simply didn't know what to do. He was glad there were no other healers in the caravan, but now that they had reached the city he would certainly run into them, and then how would he explain having a slave? Not to mention needing to go to the temple, but that could wait. First and foremost on his mind was a long, relaxing bath.

It was late afternoon when the caravan came to a halt, and Quatre immediately took leave of it. They wandered around for perhaps half an hour until Quatre settled on an inn that was of middle quality and price, and he procured a room, making sure to assure the proprietor that Trowa was merely his guest. Quatre did not relax until he was safely within his rooms at the inn, sinking down into the chair nearest the door.

Trowa went about his business in silence - he brought water and poured a glass for Quatre, then disappeared to go draw up a bath.

When he had left, Quatre stared at the glass of water for a long while before picking it up and taking a drink. Try as he might, he found it becoming easier to let Trowa do what he did best and not worry about it; but he still refused to give him orders, or even ask him for anything. He set the empty glass back on the tray and tugged at the neck of his robes to loosen it. For several minutes he sat there, lost in thought.

"Your bath is ready," Trowa said; Quatre had not even notice him come back into the doorway. Grateful, he got up and went into the bathroom. Trowa followed him, and helped him shed his robes; for the moment, he was too exhausted to think about either implication - that he was allowing himself to treat Trowa like a slave and pretend that he wasn't there, or that he was there and helping him get undressed. Quatre stepped down into the large bath, and with a happy sigh sat down on the submerged ledge and let the water rise up to his chin before dunking his head beneath the water and roughing up his hair to start loosening the sand.

Trowa had taken his robes and folded them in preparation to send them to be cleaned; and when he had finished, Quatre asked him, "What about you? Don't you want to take a bath too?"

"When you are finished," he replied demurely, but Quatre wouldn't have any of it.

"You're not using my dirty, cold water. Get in here. Besides, shouldn't you be helping me wash my back?" He didn't mean to be so sarcastic, and he regretted the last part, but thinking about Trowa willingly using his dirty bathwater...

"As you wish," Trowa replied after a moment's hesitation, and undressed as Quatre watched; and as the last piece came off and he stood there naked, with Quatre unable to peel his eyes away, and he suddenly realized what a very stupid thing he'd asked - though at the moment he regretted nothing. Trowa stepped down into the bath without the slightest hesitation or acknowledgement of Quatre's sudden embarrassment; but if Quatre had thought to look up to his face, he would have seen the barest hint of a smile.

Trowa wasted no time, but did as he was bid, helping Quatre to wash his hair and his back, slow and thorough while Quatre sat still and basked in the attention. He was disappointed when Trowa finished and he had to scrub the rest of himself on his own as Trowa did the same but much more circumspectly. He knew he could have asked Trowa to wash him, but he knew that it would only be asking for trouble. Quatre's sudden frustration at his sworn celibacy as a healer knew no bounds. He wanted something, anything, but at the same time he knew that giving in just a little bit would lead to the whole way. That didn't stop him from wanting it badly.

"Are you finished?" Trowa asked him, and with a start he realized that the water was growing cold; but he did not want to get out and embarrass himself in front of Trowa. However, he inadvertently bobbed his head, and it was taken for a yes. Trowa stepped out of the tub and Quatre watched him go, marveling guiltily at his toned ass, which quickly disappeared under a towel. Trowa dried himself off with quick efficiency and tied the towel around his waist before taking another towel, returning to the side of the bath, and holding it out for Quatre.

Quatre had no choice now but to get out, and he tried not to look at Trowa as he did so; but instead of wrapping the towel around him and letting him dry himself off as he had expected, Trowa began to dry him off himself. He stood there with his eyes closed, but he couldn't help thinking, with intense embarrassment, that Trowa was eyeing his erection. It also didn't help that Trowa had to dry off all of him, that included; but he said nothing, even after he wrapped the towel around Quatre's waist and left to bring him a fresh set of robes. Quatre opened his eyes and took a few deep breaths to help him recover from his ordeal.

When Trowa returned, Quatre hastily took the robes from his hands and, murmuring "I can dress myself," fled quickly from the bathroom.

It occurred to him, after laying awake on the soft bed afterwards that, at least in this world, Trowa was the sort of person - he refused to say slave - who would do anything he asked, and do it for him gladly, and that if he had caved in and asked Trowa to "take care of it" for him... he didn't doubt that he would have. He didn't doubt that if he called Trowa in to the bedroom right now and told him to get on his knees (among other things) he would do so happily. Half of him was disgusted by this realization, and the other half was intensely excited and aroused. But he couldn't act on it without breaking his vows.

That left only one route: the other world. He recalled Duo's words, but still didn't think he could make that leap and take the initiative. He kept hoping that Trowa would do it for him, say something first. He was afraid of tripping up, of being wrong about Trowa's feelings even though he already knew he wasn't. He wanted to be confident. He wanted to stop being afraid.


	12. Chapter 12

"What about you, Wufei?" Duo asked nonchalantly as he lounged on the couch with Heero. "Did Trowa tell you?"

" I already knew."

"What?" Duo sat up straighter. "Since when? Why the fuck didn't you say anything?"

"Months ago. Why? Because it was pure chance I ran into someone I know, and it was pure chance that Quatre ran into Trowa. If they hadn't known each other, do you really think they would have given each other even a second glance? No. It's stupid go around thinking it's the same, because it's not. The only reason I told Trowa was to make sure it wasn't just me and because I knew he was smart enough not to mix the worlds up either - at least, before Quatre found him. But that couldn't be helped."

"So... wait. Who did you meet?" Duo asked.

"No one you know," Wufei bristled.

"Fine, whatever. But what about Trowa? Have you met him there?"

"No, and I don't intend to. I said, they shouldn't be mixed, but if you want to that's your business," he replied curtly.

"But do you know who he is, at least? I mean, like Heero's a mercenary, and Quatre's a healer..." Duo said.

"Why don't you ask him yourself?" Wufei shot back. "I already said it, but I guess you weren't listening so I'll say it again - we shouldn't mix them up."

"You believe whatever you want," Duo replied. "And we'll do things our own way. Heero's glad he met me there... aren't you?" Duo asked with grin, mussing Heero's hair. "Okay, happier here, at least. But you'll get used to it, I promise," he added with a kiss on Heero's cheek.

"I don't need to know the details of your personal life - here _or _there," Wufei said indignantly, then glanced up as Quatre came down the stairs.

"Hey, Quatre - did you know that Trowa already knew before he ran into you?" Duo asked him.

"What? Oh, yes... he told me."

"And you're not pissed about it?"

"No, why would I be?" Quatre asked as he came over to sit down. "We found each other anyway, and I found out about it and told you guys, so it's fine, isn't it?"

"Shouldn't have told Duo," Wufei mumbled, but his comment was ignored by the braided pilot.

"Apparently, Wufei knew about the other world _months _ago but didn't tell us," Duo said, stressing his words in mock anger.

"I told Trowa," Wufei shot back.

"But you told him not to tell anybody else, didn't you?"

"Well, yes, but -"

"See! I told you!" Duo interrupted him triumphantly.

"I'm sure Wufei has his own reasons for not talking about it, Duo," Quatre chastised him gently. "We all know now, so what does it matter?"

* * *

"What's the matter? You look upset," Treize commented as he sipped his coffee over breakfast while Wufei pushed his food around on his plate in discontent.

"Nothing," he replied, and sighed and straightened up in his chair. "It's nothing."

"Don't give me that. Tell me. Did something happen?"

"No. Yes. But it doesn't have anything to do with you."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No."

"Then can I talk to you about something else?" Treize asked, and put his glass down. "Are you done? Let's go to the library."

Wufei nodded, and they left their plates for the housekeeper to clean up and retired to the library, where they sat together on the couch there.

"I know you don't like me to bring it up, but since you're in a bad mood today anyway, I don't think I can make it any worse," Treize said humorously, but failed to get more than a "hmph" out of his lover. "Look," he said with a sigh. "I love you, Wufei. You know that. And here, that's fine, but -"

"No," Wufei said angrily, and stood up. "No. Absolutely not. I'm not taking this into that world. It's fine here, and here is where it stays," he said.

Treize stood up and took his arm. "Please, hear me out... I understand the reason, but can we at least talk about it first? There's no harm in that, is there?" He pulled Wufei back down to sit on the couch, and into his arms. "I know, I shouldn't have brought it up... but it's really driving me crazy," he said as he buried his face in Wufei's neck and kissed him there. "I don't know how you can do it - maybe you don't - but I can't just love you here and not there. I think about you all the time. I'm not asking you to come see me. I just wanted you to know. I know you-"

"Stop. Just stop it," Wufei interrupted him. "I don't want to hear it."

"What are you afraid of, Wufei? That's what the problem is, isn't it? You're afraid of -"

"Stop it," he hissed, and pushed Treize away as he lashed out with fire. Treize put up his arm in defense, but did not try to stop it with his own magic. It hit his arm, burned him, and he flinched; but it served its intended purpose of calming Wufei down.

"Why didn't you stop it?"

"Should I have?" Treize asked as he nursed the burn, soothed it with water. "Maybe I was wrong - maybe you're not afraid. You're just confused and upset because you're trying too hard to keep things separate when you should be trying to reconcile them. You're confused because you're trying to hate me there and love me here, and it doesn't work like that. It can't. I know that forgiveness is a lot harder than revenge - but that's all I'm asking from you. So yes, I change my mind. I _do_ want us to meet up there. I want you to confront me - and I either want you to kill me or forgive me. I don't know what will happen to me here if I die there; but ultimately, I think that's up to you."

Wufei stood there for a few moments, struggling with himself, and then finally turned and fled the room.

Treize closed his eyes and sighed. "I don't mean to force you into this, I don't mean to hurt you... but I think it's the only way to get you to see," he whispered to the empty room.

* * *

Wufei was not in a very good mood. What Treize had said had shaken him, but he stubbornly refused to accept it as truth. Instead, he decided to take it out - indirectly and in a very roundabout and twisted way - on Trowa. He felt like fucking shit up.

"Are you busy?" he asked, stepping into Quatre's room.

The blonde boy looked up from whatever he was working on. "No, not really. Why?"

"Good," Wufei said, and shut the door behind him. "I want to talk to you."

"Okay..." Quatre said as he brought his chair around to face Wufei as he sat down on the bed. "What's up?"

"Let me see... now, correct me if I'm wrong, but you're a healer there, right?"

"Right."

"And Trowa is a slave. Specifically, your slave. However that works out, I don't really care, but that's how it is, isn't it?"

"Well, yes, but... and how...?"

"Trowa told me some, and I inferred the rest. You bought his freedom and he refused it, right?"

"Yes," Quatre acknowledged. "I tried to talk to him about it here, but..."

"You can't talk to Trowa," Wufei said with a dismissive gesture. "Think about it. We're fundamentally the same people, aren't we?" He didn't pause to consider how hypocritical that statement was, considering his conversation with Treize, but continued: "You can't talk to him. You have to _tell _him how it's going to be. He can be stubborn, sure, but he'll still listen to you. Especially to you. Do you see what I'm getting at here?" he asked.

"I..."

"Let me spell it out for you: if you tell him to do something, he'll do it. And I'm not just talking about there - I'm talking about here. If you tell him you want him to kiss you, to fuck you - he'll be all over you in a heartbeat."

Quatre's shocked expression told him that he'd succeeded in his mission, and, smiling smugly to himself, he stood up and left Quatre some time to think about the implications about what he'd just said.

Trowa was in for a surprise.


	13. Chapter 13

Quatre mulled over what Wufei had told him, though somehow he already knew it was probably the truth. The only way to find out for sure was to try a few experiments and see if Trowa really _would _do anything - even in this world where he wasn't any kind of slave.

* * *

When Quatre woke up from his restless nap, the sun was already heading back down towards the sands he had so recently put behind him. He jumped out of bed with a guilty twinge and hurried to smooth the wrinkles out of his robe. Trowa appeared in the doorway, as if sensing that Quatre had awoken, and awaited his master's requests.

"I need to go report to the temple," he said as he ran his fingers through his hair to comb it out and gave a quick glance in the mirror before he headed to the door of his rooms. Trowa followed him, though Quatre hadn't asked him to; but he hadn't asked him to remain behind, either.

Quatre hurried through the city, no one paying him more than a glance - healers were more common in cities where there were temples for them, after all - and when they reached the street where the temple was Quatre stopped and turned to Trowa.

"I will wait here," he said without being prompted, and Quatre was relieved that he didn't have to say anything.

"I shouldn't be long," Quatre promised, but in the back of his mind he wasn't so sure. News traveled fastest in the city, and even if there had been no other healers in the caravan, other tongues could wag against him. Hopefully he could get everything sorted out with a simple explanation of the truth, if any questions came up.

Quatre turned away from Trowa and continued down the street. Before he went up the temple's steps he looked back towards the park, and saw that Trowa had sat down on the grass under a tree to wait for him. With a deep breath and a prayer to promise himself that nothing would happen, he entered.

In the large foyer beyond the doors there was a priest waiting. It was not a good sign, he thought, and especially not so when the priest addressed him by name.

"Healer Quatre?"

"Yes," he acknowledged with a nervous bob of his head.

"Come with me. The prelate wishes to see you."

Bad news, Quatre knew. One did not get summoned to see a city's prelate on small matters. The priest turned and began walking down the hall, shoes clicking on the stone floor. Quatre followed, his footsteps less sure. He had never been summoned before a prelate, nor had he ever had reason to seek an audience with one. In short, he had absolutely no idea about what to expect.

The priest ushered him into the prelate's office. It was austere, like the rest of the building; healers did not put stock by luxury, though they were not short of money by any means The rich paid well for their services, and those payments in turn allowed them to offer cheaper or free rates to the poor.

The prelate was an older man with robes of brilliant red, the color of blood, as the high priests also wore; but they were still plain and without decoration or other trappings. He was seated at his desk. There were no other chairs in the room, so Quatre was forced to stand. The priest shut the door to the office and took up position in the corner, to serve as witness and to carry out whatever orders the prelate might give. Quatre waited nervously as the prelate looked him up and down, and then glanced at the papers on his desk for a moment before speaking.

"You have not given your report yet?"

"No, sir. I only arrived a few hours ago, and-"

"No excuses," the prelate grunted. "You will give your report after we are through here."

"Yes, sir." Quatre might have thought he had an inkling of what Trowa faced, mentally replacing "sir" with "master."

"Tell me about what I have read here," he said with a sweep of his hand at the papers on the desk, and Quatre knew there was only one thing he could be asking about: Trowa.

He took a breath and started his story carefully. "On my way here, about a week and a half ago, the caravan I was with crossed with another, and we stopped together at an oasis for the night. I went to where the slave merchants were set up to see if there was any need of my services with the other caravan. There was an auction going on and one of the slaves reminded me of a boy I had known once, so I bought his freedom." Quatre paused, unsure of how he should continue. He decided to be truthful, and went on before the prelate had to prompt him. "I bought his freedom, and he refused it."

"Preposterous!" the prelate rumbled.

"It is the truth," Quatre said quietly, and the prelate did not reprimand him for speaking out. "Every morning and every night I have offered him his freedom, and every time he has refused it. I cannot order him to take it. I cannot give nor sell him to someone else. I cannot abandon him, so I have let him follow me and do what he wants."

"A slave always wants his freedom. Why do you think he does this?" the prelate asked, leaning forwards over his desk.

"Perhaps he has been treated badly in the past, and thinks he will not give up my kindness," Quatre answered. It was truth, but only partially. He could not simply come out and say "oh and by the way, we know each other in another world"; it would be foolish, and would certainly result in punishment.

"Even someone like him would not be so foolish to presume such a thing," the prelate grunted. "Tell me of your sins, child. Have you given him orders?"

"No sir. Only requests," Quatre answered, then reflected on his answer and bit his lip. "No. That is not true. I gave him two orders, the morning after, and after I had offered him his freedom a second time. I told him not to call me 'master,' and I told him not to look at the ground when he spoke to me." Quatre knew what his confessions would mean, but he hoped the prelate would understand and be merciful.

"To give orders to another is a grave sin, child, not to mention the continuation of slavery. I can understand why you gave the orders you did, in your frustration, but you would have been better off to order him to accept his freedom."

Quatre swallowed the knot in his throat. "I understand, sir. I realize my error."

"Good. You will correct it, and then you will receive your punishment."

"Yes, sir," Quatre said quietly, and closed his eyes as the prelate gestured to the priest in the corner to open the door - but his dismissal did not come.

"Bring him in," the prelate said, and Quatre opened his eyes to see Trowa's feet come to stand by his own. The priest closed the door again, and went to the prelate's desk to take up the rolled parchment and hand it to Quatre. He did not have to see the seal to know it was a deed of freedom, and he hoped Trowa was not going to make a scene. There was no way to talk to him about it now. He took a breath and turned to look at Trowa, and hoped his plea showed enough in his face for Trowa to understand that he should not refuse it this time.

He did not know if he should order Trowa to take it, or simply offer it again; but he felt the latter was safer, especially since they were inside the temple.

"I grant you your freedom," Quatre said, and held out the deed. Trowa reached up and grasped the other end.

"I accept."

Quatre did not know if the prelate or the priest had seen or heard it, but there had been a slight pause between the two words, and Trowa's lips had kept moving - in the shape of "do not." Quatre let go of his end of the deed. Trowa slipped it inside the waistband of his pants - Quatre had insisted he find something more to wear than just a loincloth, as much as he liked the view - and turned and walked out as the priest opened the door for him.

"Please see to it that he receives his freedom allowance as well," the prelate said to the priest, who nodded and repeated the orders to another outside the door before closing it again.

"It seems he knows when he has pushed his luck too far," the prelate reflected.

"Yes, sir." But Quatre knew differently, and he knew that Trowa would be waiting for him when he returned to the apartments. He didn't know if it was a good or a bad thing.

"Now, about your punishment. It is obvious your heart is in the right place and no lasting harm has been done, but your sins cannot be so easily forgiven. Your punishment is five minutes. After you have recovered, please deliver your report and receive your next assignment."

"Yes, sir," Quatre replied in a whisper, hands trembling at his sides as he strove not to ball them into fists. There would be time enough for that in the next few minutes. "I accept my punishment and thank you for your kindness. I will not forget either."

"Good." The prelate nodded to the priest. "Take him to the chamber."

Quatre was escorted out of the prelate's office and towards the five minutes of hell which awaited him. There was no sign of Trowa in the halls; he was already gone.


	14. Chapter 14

"How do you feel?"

Heero couldn't answer. He couldn't even muster enough strength to express his pain. He could feel every nerve, white-hot, every cut on his body, every bruise, bite, scratch, sore muscle.

"Don't worry. You'll get used to it," Duo said blithely and stood up, leaving Heero's field of view. "You've been out for a couple of days." He sat down on the edge of the bed again, took a drink of something, then bent down to kiss Heero and transfer it to him.

It was bitter; Heero coughed, wracking his body with new pain, and spit some of it out.

"Swallow it," Duo ordered.

He did as he was told. The medicine - if that was what it was - left a foul taste in his mouth, but it took his mind off the pain for a few minutes before it kicked in. It started with a pricking, a hot tickling sensation which increased until it was a full-fledged burning _itch_ which consumed his whole body. The pain couldn't keep him from writhing on the bed, trying to scratch his back against the sheets; he was so distracted by it that he did not even notice Duo was holding his wrists down, pinning his hands to the bed.

"It'll only last a few minutes."

Those few minutes seemed to be hours of agony for Heero, but gradually the burning, itching sensation faded, as did the pain. Duo let go of his wrists, and Heero struggled up to a sitting position.

"Here," Duo said, handing him a glass of water, which he took and drank greedily. The cool water soothed his throat - he hadn't realized how thirsty he was. Duo took the glass from him when it was empty, but didn't offer him another.

"I'll tell you right now, that's the only time I'm going to use it on you," Duo said of the medicine. "You'll get used to the pain - and that was _nothing_ compared to what I can make you feel." He grinned, and then leaned over to kiss Heero's cheek. "So tell me, because I didn't ask you over there... how much do you remember?"

Heero didn't reply for a few moments; he had just noticed what it was the itching and burning sensation had been. All the cuts, scratches, and bites Duo had inflicted on him had closed up; scratches and bites had been reduced to bright red lines that were already fading, and the cuts had closed up and left red welts surrounding fresh, pink scars.

"N-not... not much," Heero replied. His voice was rough, his throat raw from - he assumed - screaming. It was the truth; the pain, along with whatever else Duo had done to him, had muddled his memories.

Duo's grin widened, but Heero didn't think he liked what that meant. "Don't worry. Next time I'll make sure to go nice and slow so you can remember _every second_," he whispered as he leaned in, then nipped at Heero's neck, drawing blood. The medicine was still in his system; it began itching almost immediately, and closed up.

Duo stood up from the bed in a fluid motion. "Now, you go back to sleep and get some rest while you can. I'll be back in a few hours."

"Where are you going?" Heero asked and tried to sit up by himself without the aid of the pillows, but still could not.

"You think this room pays for itself?" Duo asked with a sweep of his hand, and for the first time Heero looked around at where he was. The bedroom was large and lavishly decorated, with rich carpets and exquisite trappings. Through a half-open doorway he thought he recognized the room they had dined in. And of course, it was the most expensive place to stay in the city, luxury on par with some of the merchants he hired out to escort - nothing he could afford, even right after he'd been paid for a good job.

"But... you're going to..."

"A job is a job," Duo replied.

Heero was still not thinking completely clearly, or he probably would not have asked his question: "Who...?"

"You really want to know?" Duo asked with that dangerous, feral grin of his. "Guess it really doesn't matter to you what happens after your job's finished, does it?"

Heero's mind was clear enough, however, to appreciate the fact that whoever wanted his previous charge dead had waited until he was safely home and out of their care. Under no circumstances would he have wanted to be fighting Duo - or _any _shadow child. He knew he would not stand a chance. As just a mercenary for hire, if he were up against a shadow child in a fight, he knew he would probably not last more than five seconds unless he decided to try and run. And running was not something he did, not in either world.

"Go to sleep, and I'll be back soon," Duo repeated, and pulled up the coverlet to tuck him in. "And after that, we'll have some _fun_."

With a turn and a ripple of blackness Duo was gone from the room, and Heero was left to dwell on those last words as he fell asleep.

* * *

As Wufei read the mission email, he had a bad feeling about the whole thing. Trowa was going too, yes, and it was just a simple recon mission, a speech they were to attend and scope out the crowd, but... _he_ would be there. He was the one giving the speech, in fact, but Wufei simply didn't know if he'd be able to hold himself back - and he couldn't tell Trowa without Trowa figuring out that Treize was the person he was not supposed to be going to see. All that, and Treize's taunt still weighed heavy on his mind: kill or forgive.

Wufei wasn't sure he was capable of either, but it looked like he was going to find out whether he was ready for it or not. The speech was tomorrow night; they had to leave immediately, which meant, unfortunately, that Wufei's plans would have to be put on hold until they got back. At least Quatre could have some more time to think it over, and maybe that would make him a little bolder. Wufei wished he had time to think, but tomorrow didn't give him much time and like hell he was going to tell Treize that he would be there.

He threw his clothes and things into his bag, sighed, and went to see if Trowa had read the email yet and whether or not he was ready to leave.

* * *

Trowa didn't comment on Wufei's quietness as they drove towards their location, but he could see Wufei's nervousness well. He refrained from asking questions until they stopped for the night and got a hotel; better to ask now then later. He had no real idea what the problem was, but he could guess well enough.

"I don't want you doing anything stupid tomorrow, Wufei," Trowa said as Wufei came out of the bathroom and sat down on the edge of the bed to watch the news with him.

"What are you talking about?"

"You know what I'm talking about; you read the mission report, didn't you? This is Kushrenada, and I'm telling you not to make a scene."

"I don't have any intention of 'making a scene'," Wufei responded angrily. "I know what we're here for."

"Just making sure," Trowa said with a shrug. "I know you want him dead, but we're just here to take a look around."

Wufei didn't say anything, and Trowa didn't seem to think anything was strange about that. After a long few minutes of listening to the news drone on, Wufei asked, "Are we going in armed?"

Trowa turned and gave him a long, appraising look that made Wufei feel more than a little uncomfortable - like Trowa knew more about the situation then he was letting on.

"No. I think security will be pretty tight. We don't need to risk it; we're not doing anything that should get us caught, but to be on the safe side..." Left unspoken was "and so you don't have the _means_ to do anything really stupid." From that, Wufei could rest assured that Trowa really did have it all wrong, but he wasn't about to correct him. Either way, he was still a little miffed that Trowa seemed to think he had so little self-control. Even without this internal conflict, he wasn't stupid enough to try and assassinate anybody in public.

But afterwards... now, _afterwards_ might be a different story.


	15. Chapter 15

Five minutes. Five minutes. Five minutes was not very long at all, Quatre told himself, and he knew he should be grateful that it had been more, but he had never taken punishment before and his head was filled with the stories of those who had. He already felt sick just walking to the chamber, following the priest through the stone hallways that were unforgiving. He could not recall ever having felt so alone before.

It was down the steps at the back of the temple; underground, to muffle the sounds of his screams, he supposed. He wasn't claustrophobic, but he felt like it there, and he held his breath as if he was descending underwater and didn't take a breath until he reached the bottom of the stairs. From there it was just a short walk of a few yards to the chamber.

The priest nodded to him, and he went first into the short passageway. It smelled like a healer's workroom, like disinfectant that couldn't quite cover the smell of blood and vomit. The room at the end was small and dark. The priest stopped in the passageway and picked up an hourglass from a niche on the wall, tipped it towards Quatre so that he could see the number five on the top, and then he shut the door. It had a small opening in it, where the priest could watch as he administered the punishment.

"It starts now," he said, and turned over the hourglass.

There was nothing Quatre could have done to prepare himself. Healers healed, yes, but their magic, when used in the wrong way, could also do great damage. And in a controlled environment, such as this small, closed room...

The pain flared within him, white-hot and radiating out from his center. He tried to fight it with his own magic, but that only made it worse so he gave up. It felt like his guts were turning and twisting inside him, trying to snake their way up and out his throat; like he was being crushed to death from the inside out. He screamed, gagged, threw up blood and tried to scream again but it didn't work. Tears streamed down his face as he writhed on the floor in agony.

It was not over soon enough.

The pain ceased, receded; his insides returned to where they ought to be and he gasped for air but that was a bad idea because the smell made him vomit some more, but at least this time there was no blood. He lay on the cold floor for a while, taking shaky breaths, and eventually rose up on trembling hands and knees and mustered the strength to crawl over towards the door - now open - and away from his mess. He never wanted to go through that again. Never, never, never ever again. He understood now why those who sinned once rarely did so again.

He didn't understand, though, how they could use such a thing against their own healers, when the creed of the healer was never to harm another - though he understood that the damage was temporary. It didn't sit right with him. He found himself questioning it, which was a bad thing because that was a sin which get him more of the same.

Quatre shuddered at the thought, and struggled to stand up, leaning against the wall for support. He wanted to go right back to the inn and to Trowa, but he still had to make his report and he wanted to get it done as quickly as possible. After a few more minutes of standing there against the wall, he recovered enough to walk shakily through the passageway and out into the hallway. The priest was there waiting for him.

"Do you need to rest longer?" the priest asked, and gestured to an open doorway beyond which Quatre could see a bed.

He shook his head. "No. I'd just like to make my report, get my next assignment, and be on my way, thank you."

The priest nodded, and with a glance that asked him silently if he could get up the stairs, turned and began walking down the passage. Quatre followed unsteadily, but by the time he reached the staircase he was already feeling much better - though the memory certainly lingered in a bad way.

* * *

It was already turning dark when Quatre returned to the inn. Trowa met him immediately when he entered, and Quatre was so relieved that it was all he could do to stop himself from collapsing right then and there.

"Are you all right, Quatre?" Trowa asked him, and if he hadn't been so exhausted he might have laughed.

"No. No I'm not," Quatre said, and then he did fall over, but Trowa caught him and that was the last thing he remembered before passing out.

* * *

Wufei picked nervously at the buttons on the cuffs of his jacket and wished Trowa had at the very least let him bring a knife, but he had been adamant about no weapons. They were here for recon and that was it. Each of them had a list of names and photos they'd looked over beforehand, and all they had to do was mentally go down it and check off who was and wasn't present. Wufei wondered why the hell they couldn't make it simple and just steal a guest list afterwards.

And of course, the fact that the whole thing revolved around Treize was not making it easy on him either. There was still a quarter of an hour until the speech and Treize had yet to appear, so for now he could just mill about and focus on the mission until they had to take their seats. When everybody seemed to be going in that direction he found Trowa again and they sat down and compared notes while they could, and then it was time for the main event.

Wufei very much did not want to be there; he did not want Treize to see him. He tried to keep his head down and not look up at him - he didn't want to look at him - and he tried to keep focused on the hushed comments around him during the speech rather than pay attention to Treize's voice. They weren't here for the speech, just find out who _was_ here to listen.

Keeping his head down made his neck hurt, so eventually he had to look up and stretch it and try not to look like he was doing it because he was bored - which he was, but that wasn't the point. Of course, it also meant he had to look up and see Treize.

And Treize saw him. Wufei was sure of it; their eyes met, and maybe Treize smiled almost imperceptibly in the middle of his speech; but Wufei wasn't that intent on keeping his eyes there to find out. He looked back down at the floor quickly, and wondered if he should say something to Trowa. Of all the people there, Treize was one of the very few who would recognize both of them on sight, but he didn't think he'd say anything about it and get them in trouble, not with what he'd said about wanting a confrontation. Wufei didn't think he'd force it like that. This was between just the two of them

Wufei felt bad about it, but he didn't say anything to Trowa. Even without mentioning that Treize was the person he'd met, Trowa would still try to keep him away.

When Treize had finally finished and some other people they didn't care about had finished their follow-up comments and congratulations, the audience - including Wufei and Trowa - adjourned to the after-party. They still needed to complete their recon lists.

Wufei thought that Trowa had to have known that Treize would be there, circulating around the groups of guests with a glass of wine in hand, making small talk. This time he was also absolutely certain that Treize saw him and knew he was there. He tried to stay on the opposite end of the room, but even there he couldn't escape the feeling that Treize was watching him - though he was never looking at Wufei when Wufei looked to see where he was.

Eventually, Treize excused himself and left the room, and Wufei - much as he loathed to do so - was ready and followed him. He didn't make a show of sneaking about, except to get past Trowa; but Trowa, thankfully, was not paying attention.

There were soldiers standing guard in the hallways, but none of them stopped and questioned him even though it was quite obvious he was following their general. Treize did not look back, but Wufei was sure he already knew he was being followed so he didn't bother to hide behind corners and stay out of sight. If Treize turned around, he would see him.

Wufei followed him up to the next floor, where there were more soldiers standing guard; he felt uneasy walking down the middle of the hallway, and more so when Treize finally stopped in front of a door and opened it, then paused. Treize turned his head and smiled at him and called out down the hall, "are you coming in?" before entering the room, leaving the door open. Wufei was grateful for not having to walk past him to enter.

After Wufei was inside, he quickly closed the door behind himself before he could change his mind, and took a deep breath.


	16. Chapter 16

It seemed silly, but Quatre really hoped Trowa would have called him and asked if he was okay. After all, he had come in and just keeled over; was it too much to ask for a phone call? Then again, he was perfectly fine in this world...

* * *

It was morning when he woke, a little late - around ten or ten-thirty maybe - and he had a rather nasty headache, but he didn't let that stop him from getting out of bed and, after calmly reflecting on everything which had gone on yesterday, freaking the hell out.

Trowa appeared in the doorway as if on cue. "I have everything ready to leave, if you're all right," he said.

"Good, good. What did you... do you still have that deed of freedom?"

"Yes."

"Good. Keep it - we might need it later."

Trowa, amazingly, did not ask him why.

"Do you know how to fight? Can you swing a sword?"

"Yes," Trowa replied after a moment's hesitation, and looked as though he was going to question Quatre - but didn't.

"Do you still have the money, too?"

"Yes."

"Okay, good. Take some of my coins as well. I want you to go out right now and buy a good sword, or any weapon, for yourself. Get a set of plain clothes for me. Then meet me at the coach outpost on the east side of town," Quatre instructed him - or rather, ordered him. It didn't matter any more, he figured.

This time, Trowa did speak up. "I thought healers were opposed to fighting."

Quatre shrugged. "Yes, but it's acceptable to hire an armed guard if we're going somewhere dangerous - even with all the laws and treaties. At any rate, it's much less suspicious than traveling with a slave; I don't want to have to go through _that _again." He shuddered at the memory, but knew that he was probably already screwed at this point for what he was about to do.

"Did they..." Trowa hesitated, as if he wasn't sure he wanted to ask what had happened.

"What heals can hurt," Quatre replied, and apparently that was enough explanation for Trowa. "Now get going. East coach outpost. I'll meet you there, and we'll get out of here. It's best if we're not seen together in the city."

Trowa nodded, and left. Quatre sighed and shook his head to clear it, then went about getting ready to skip town.

* * *

When Duo returned from his hit, it was mid-afternoon. Heero was still asleep so he crept around the room silently - something that didn't take any effort, he was so used to moving that way - and cleared a space on the floor to set up the props for his little 'ritual.' When he was done with that he called for a light, late lunch, and then woke Heero up.

"How do you feel now?" he asked.

"Better."

"Hungry?"

"Yes," Heero replied, and sat up. All that remained of the pain was a dull ache in his muscles.

"Good. Let's eat. You'll need your strength... for tonight," Duo said with a smirk.

Heero noticed the set-up on the floor and craned his head to see. "What's that for?"

"Later," Duo told him. "Come on, get up." He helped Heero pull himself out of bed, and steadied him. Duo left and went into the front room where they'd eaten dinner before, and with another look at the sinister-looking circle chalked onto the floor, Heero followed him out and took a seat.

They ate in silence, and when they were finished Duo leaned back and stretched. "Sure you're still feeling all right?"

"Yes," Heero replied with a frown. "Why?"

"Guess it hasn't been long enough for the poison, then," Duo answered casually, and took a drink.

Heero stared at him, as if he hadn't heard - or hadn't understood. "What?"

"The medicine I gave you this morning. It's poison for anyone but a shadow child. Seems good for the first ten hours or so, but then it really gets going. You look fine on the outside; it rots you from the inside out, killing you slowly and painfully over the course of about a day." Duo looked over at Heero's terrified face, and laughed.

"You... you're joking... right...?" Heero asked slowly.

"Nope," Duo answered cheerfully. "But don't worry. It's just to make sure you don't try to get out of what I'm going to do to you. Of course, I'm sure there's plenty of people who'd _prefer_ the long and painful death... but you'll cooperate, right?"

Heero wasn't sure how to respond to that, so he didn't.

"Do you know about shadow hosts?" Duo asked; Heero shook his head, no. "Then allow me to explain, because that's what I'm going to make you - my host. It's something we can do... attach ourselves to somebody, make ourselves their shadow."

"Why would you do that?" Heero asked. He wasn't sure if he liked the sound of it, but it seemed he didn't really have a choice.

"Oh, it has its benefits... mostly for me, but for you too if you cooperate. It's _always_ better if the host cooperates," Duo said with that feral grin of his. "Shall we go back to the bedroom and get started?"

* * *

Quatre was already there and waiting by the coach when Trowa arrived; when he saw Trowa coming he quickly got inside. Trowa joined him a few moments later, new sword at his waist and clothes for Quatre in a rucksack. He made to sit down across from Quatre, but Quatre motioned him to sit next to him as the coach driver closed the door. A few seconds later they were off, and Quatre started to breathe a little bit easier - but not much.

"Did you find everything all right?"

"Yes," Trowa replied. "I think the clothes will fit you."

Quatre sighed and leaned back, but then something caught his eye. "Let me see your hand." Trowa showed it to him. There was a small cut on the base of his thumb that was bleeding. "Where did you get this?"

"I wanted to test the blade before I bought it."

"Here, let me..." Quatre said, and tried to pull Trowa's hand closer to him, but Trowa pulled it back.

"It's not necessary..."

"I said, let me," Quatre shot back, and Trowa didn't argue this time. Quatre looked at the small cut and thought about it for a minute. Healers normally healed with their hands, but he was thinking about the other world - the old "kiss it to make it better" adage. With a smile, he brought Trowa's hand up and bent down to kiss the cut as he closed his eyes and pulled on his magic: not gathering it in his hands, but on his lips. He was surprised to find that it seemed to come easier there, brighter and warmer. The cut was small, so it healed in only an instant and Quatre let him pull his hand back.

"You've got some blood on your lip," Trowa said quietly, and Quatre started to reach up to wipe it off, but he stopped himself and thought of something better - something naughty.

"You get it," he said. When Trowa started to reach up, Quatre swatted his hand away and blushed as he added, "Lick it off."

Quatre thought Trowa didn't seem surprised as he should be, but he did hesitate for a moment before leaning over to do as he was bid. His tongue darted out to touch Quatre's lip, and he started to pull away but Quatre followed and caught him in a kiss, sweet and simple. Then the coach hit a bump and they were jolted apart. Quatre looked away with a smile.

After a few minutes of silence between them, Quatre tried to strike up a conversation to get rid of the awkwardness and his own tension about whether or not they were being pursued.

"So... you _do_ know how to use that sword, right?" Quatre didn't think Trowa knew how to fence in the other world, so naturally he was a little concerned.

"I have had... basic instruction," Trowa replied. "I'm better with my fists."

"Where did you learn? Didn't you say you'd been a slave all your life?"

"One of my former masters liked... betting on fights," Trowa finished, but Quatre thought there was something else he wasn't saying and thought he could guess what it was - and he was not happy about it.

"He made you fight? Like, other slaves, or...? But isn't that outlawed?"

"Yes. Against other slaves."

"Did you win, at least?" The part of him which was taught to think like a healer, and his natural dislike of fighting, was disgusted and mortified that he was even having this conversation - though he was grudgingly happy that Trowa was opening up to him more in this world.

"Yes. Most of the time."

"Well, that's good, I suppose," Quatre said as he leaned back and tried to relax. The bumpy coach ride was not helping.

There was a few more moments of silence, before Trowa spoke. "May I ask..."

"Of course," Quatre replied, then reprimanded him with "You don't need to ask for permission."

"What happened yesterday?"

Quatre closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths. "I was punished."

"For what? You have done nothing wrong."

He thought it was nice of Trowa to say so, and glad to hear something so opinionated from him, but that didn't count for much after the fact. "We are not supposed to give orders to slaves - or anybody - unless there is need, such as in a life and death situation where there's no time to ask nicely. We believe that everyone should be free to do as they choose, and that no one should harm another person... or so I thought," he added with a grimace. "I knew that there was a kind of punishment for those who broke the rules, but I never imagined it would be like that. A healer's powers should never be used to cause pain, only to remove it. And that is why I don't think I want to belong to such an order any more. I thought I was a part of something good..."

"You are good," Trowa told him simply.

Quatre smiled. "Thanks. I try to believe in what I was taught, but now that I find my teachers don't believe in their own lessons... I'm only worried what they might do when they find I've left - and how many rules I've broken... or will break," he added. "But then again, I've always been the sort of person who just tries to do what I feel is right... no matter what kind of trouble or danger it puts me in."

Trowa didn't say anything, but for Quatre he didn't have to.

"Anyway, I'm tired. I didn't sleep very well last night," Quatre said, and leaned over to lay his head on Trowa's shoulder. "Wake me up in a couple hours, okay?"


	17. Chapter 17

His hand still on the knob just in case, Wufei leaned back against the door and took a few moments to compose himself and his thoughts - to bring everything about _her_ back up, the anger and the sorrow, fueled by the same from the more recent events from the other world even though Treize had nothing to do with that. These were his weapons tonight: his words and anger and possibly even his fists. When he felt like he was ready - not that he felt he ever would or could be - he let go of the doorknob and walked slowly and deliberately into the room.

Treize was standing next to a table, drinking a glass of water; next to that, an empty wineglass and an open bottle not yet poured. He'd taken off his jacket and hung it over the back of the chair. The top two buttons of his undershirt were undone.

For a moment, they just looked at each other, and Wufei let the rage seethe through him until it almost began to blur his vision. Everything he wanted to say - and he had no idea what to say first. Treize set the glass of water down on the table and poured himself a glass of wine, red wine. Wufei watched it flow into the glass, dark like blood. Like her blood.

As Treize raised the wineglass to his lips and took a sip, Wufei let it all go.

"You _killed_ her. You're the reason she's dead! If it hadn't been for you... you..." he faltered; words could not express what he was feeling.

"Shouldn't you be blaming the person who did it? I wasn't there," Treize said, and set the glass down to step away from the table and towards Wufei.

"You were the one behind it! Even I can't entirely blame soldiers for the actions of their leader. The blame lies with you!" Wufei shouted.

"Why only me? What about General Septum's involvement? Surely you knew about that. But of course... you have me to thank for getting rid of him, don't you?" Treize added with a thin smile.

"It was the OZ soldiers who did the attacking!" Wufei rationalized. "I knew about the biological weapons. I know what Sally did - pulled out and covered up. If it weren't for her, I wouldn't be here. But you - your people would have carried it out, if Melian and I hadn't been there to stop them!" Wufei was shaking now, with anger or something else. He wasn't sure which any more.

"What was she to you?" Treize asked.

His question was genuine, but it was what set Wufei off. Though tears and gritted teeth, he replied, "She. Was. My. _Wife!_"

From the way he pulled back - though Wufei was too preoccupied to notice it - it was clear this was not the answer he had expected. But he also understood how he could use it towards his own ends, as much as he did not want to bring up his own bad memories.

"I'm sorry. I truly am. I lost my own wife, about six years ago. I know what it feels like to lose someone you love," Treize said sadly.

"I didn't love her," Wufei said. "I never asked for her to be my wife. It was an arranged marriage."

"But you must have cared about her, or you wouldn't be here now," Treize replied. "If you didn't care, then why bother with revenge?"

"This isn't about revenge!" Wufei insisted as tears streamed down his cheeks. "The strong must fight to protect the weak. This is about justice, about stopping this stupid war!"

"I would stop it if I knew how, if only for you," Treize replied quietly.

"How _dare_ you say that! You're the one keeping it going!" Wufei shouted at him, and before he knew it, there was Wufei's fist. Even so, he made no move to dodge it, and the punch connected with the corner of his mouth.

"Why didn't you dodge?" Wufei howled, and didn't seem to notice that he'd already asked this question once before and should have known the answer.

"I deserved it, didn't I?" Treize asked as touched his cheek gingerly and swallowed blood so Wufei wouldn't see it when he smiled. "For you, I would end this war. But something like that doesn't happen overnight."

"Don't say that."

"Say what? For you? But it's true, Wufei. I love you just as much here as I do in that world. I don't want you to hate me, and I'm sorry - not for what I've done, well, I am, but that's not what I'm talking about now - I mean I'm sorry that you feel this way. I know you want to blame someone, and I don't want it to be yourself - but what does blame accomplish, really? It's exactly the same thing as revenge. If you kill me, what will change? Somebody worse will just step up to take my place."

"I didn't come here to kill you," Wufei said, trying not to choke on the knot in his throat.

"I know that," Treize answered. "I know you can't. You're not the sort of person who could kill someone who would still profess their love for you with their dying breath."

"Stop it," Wufei whispered as he covered his face with his hands. "Just... don't. Don't say that."

"I'm sorry, but it's the truth," Treize replied as he stepped forwards to draw Wufei into a gentle hug. Here, though, that was the most he could offer. "Can you forgive me for what I've done to you? At least think about it," he added when Wufei didn't answer, and then he let him go. "Why don't you have a seat? There's tissues on the table there," he suggested, and Wufei did as he was bid as Treize turned away to go and pour a glass of water.

Treize returned to the couch with it and his glass of wine, and handed the water to Wufei. He got no thanks in return, but he hadn't expected any. Wufei downed the glass in one long go, and set it on the end table and turned his eye to Treize's glass.

"Maybe I should have some of that instead," he mumbled.

Treize took a drink and set the glass down on the other end table. "I don't think you're old enough," he said with a faint smile. Wufei was calm enough by now to know that his reply meant that he did not have to worry about his other great fear regarding this encounter. This would be all there was.

After a few minutes of sitting there together on the couch in silence, not touching, not really even looking at each other, Wufei said "I should go," and stood up. Treize stood up as well, and put his hands on Wufei's shoulders.

"This is all I can give you," he said quietly, and brushed Wufei's forehead with his lips in the lightest of kisses. "Someday, maybe... but until then, I'll just see you there."

Wufei nodded, and Treize let him go so he could leave. He did not see Wufei to the door, but sat back down to finish his wine as he listened to him leave, then got up to pour himself another glass. After all that, he needed it.


	18. Chapter 18

"What have you done?"

"What do you mean? I haven't done anything," Wufei replied. Trowa had met him in the hall outside the ballroom - looking for him, Wufei supposed.

"Where were you?"

"Can we just leave now? I think I'm getting a headache."

Trowa gave him a long look that Wufei didn't like but was too emotionally wiped to really care about. With a shrug, he turned and began walking towards the exit; Wufei followed.

They didn't say anything more to each other until they were in the car and on their way back home, and it was Trowa who brought it up again. "So what happened?"

"Nothing. Nothing happened. All we did was talk, all right? That was it." Wufei sighed. "Well, okay, I punched him in the face. But that was it."

Trowa laughed, a small chuckle. Wufei leaned his head against the window and stared out into the dark. Silence descended again, and he toyed with the idea of telling Trowa that it was Treize he'd met in the other world, telling him that he didn't need a failsafe any more because he was no longer worried about running off and getting into trouble. After all, Treize wouldn't let him, and that was better than any other precaution he could take.

* * *

"Can you set the table?"

"Help me do the dishes?"

"Hand me that washcloth."

"Here, put this away."

"Will you go look this up for me?"

"Hand me the remote."

"Can you get me a glass of water?"

"Throw this in with your laundry, okay?"

"Those need folded and put away."

"Help me make lunch."

"Can you do the dishes?"

"Don't forget to wipe the counters."

And so on and so forth, all day.

By "Can you make dinner tonight?", Quatre was sure Trowa had to realize what he was doing. Like Wufei had said, Trowa did everything Quatre asked or ordered him to without question, and didn't complain about it - not that he did normally, but Quatre usually didn't ask so much of him in a single day. He decided that if everything went the same way tomorrow, maybe he'd step it up a little. Just to make sure. And if that went well, then maybe the night after that...

* * *

Heero wasn't entirely sure if Duo was joking about the poison or not, but he did know that he had no choice even if it wasn't true. It was impossible to say no to Duo, especially here where he was absolutely outmatched. So when Duo got up and went back into the bedroom, Heero followed, even though he had no idea what to expect or how much it was hurt - all he knew was that it would probably be very painful.

When Heero went back into the bedroom it was dark; Duo had closed the curtains and lit a few candles around the pentagram drawn on the floor. Heero didn't see Duo there, but he heard the door close behind him and then Duo's hands on his shoulders and his voice in his ear saying, "Get undressed."

He'd thrown on a pair of pants and a shirt after getting up to eat; it took him only a few moments to take them off again. Duo's hands caressed him again, but only for a moment.

"What's the matter? Relax... this won't hurt unless you try to resist me. Go lay down there," Duo told him with a chuckle, indicating the pentagram.

Heero went. The floor was cold, but not as uncomfortable as he'd expected.

"Go on, spread yourself out," Duo told him, sliding his bare foot up the inside of Heero's calf to make him spread his legs. Once he was positioned to Duo's satisfaction - arms and legs stretched out towards the points of the pentagram - Duo bent down to secure his wrists and ankles to the floor. Heero turned his head to watch as Duo drew forth what looked like black smoke from his fingers and traced it from the floor, over his wrist, and back to the floor again, then moved on to his ankles and then to his opposite wrist. Heero tested it; though it looked insubstantial, it felt as solid as iron shackles securing him to the floor.

"I don't need you thrashing around," Duo said with a chuckle when he saw Heero's questioning expression.

"I thought you said it wouldn't hurt."

"It'll still make you squirm," Duo replied with a grin. "Don't need you knocking over the mood lighting and starting a fire." When he was finished, he stood up and Heero heard the whisper of fabric slipping off and hitting the floor as he undressed; and then he knelt down between Heero's legs and leaned over him. "Now remember, just relax and let me in."

With that reminder, Duo... dissolved. That was the best way Heero could explain it. His outline became hazy and dark, like smoke, until he was just a formless black shadow hovering in the air. It descended, settled against him like a warm fog, seeping into his skin. It tickled a little, made his hair stand on end and gave him goose bumps; it was different, not too uncomfortable... until the pressure started. It was in his head, in his mind; a minor annoyance at first like a fly buzzing around. He squirmed like Duo had promised he would, but there was no getting away from it.

Then the memories started coming. Things from his childhood, things from both worlds; things he thought he'd forgotten or buried long ago. Some of them were mundane; others hurt. Then there were... other memories. Ones that weren't his, which meant they must have been Duo's - and compared to his, they seemed a lot worse. Pain, suffering, grief, fear. Training to be a shadow child. Growing up on the streets. A church. Catacombs. All mixed in with his own memories, all as vivid as if he was experiencing them himself - and underneath it, that intensifying pressure, that uncomfortable feeling of something foreign invading his head.

He pushed back against it, and found that was where the pain lay. It made him struggle against his bonds, try to press himself into the floor to try to get away from it but there was nowhere to go. The memories came thick and fast and the pressure increased; he did his best to yield to it, but that was nearly impossible to accomplish so he just tried to reach a sort of medium where resistance wasn't too painful compared to what he'd already experienced.

And then it was over and he was lying on the floor panting heavily, trying to catch his breath, pouring sweat and staring up at the ceiling and admiring the pattern of the gilding for a few brief moments before he blacked out.

* * *

When Heero woke again, he didn't feel any different. He was in bed and Duo was laying halfway on top of him - presumably fast asleep - and none of it seemed like it had been real. The floor was bare, the candles gone, the curtains and shutters open to let in the evening breeze. Even the memories, which had seemed so real at the time, were now fleeting; not his own, of course, but the ones which could only have belonged to Duo. They slipped away like dreams of the other world before he'd known they were both real, something only half-remembered before they vanished completely.

But he did remember what Duo had said before about the poison. Heero reached up to shake Duo awake, but before he had even moved his hand an inch, Duo mumbled "You're fine" and he let his hand fall back down. After all that, he didn't bother with worrying about how Duo had apparently just read his mind and chalked it up to whatever he'd done. There was nothing else to do then, so he closed his eyes and went back to sleep.


	19. Chapter 19

Trowa didn't have to wake him; Quatre woke when the coach stopped.

"Are we there already? How long was I asleep?" he asked Trowa, sitting up and rubbing his eyes.

"We're waiting for the ferry. You've been asleep for about an hour."

"Oh," Quatre said with some disappointment, and yawned. "I guess I should get changed, before someone sees me."

"I don't think we're being followed," Trowa said as he handed the pack to Quatre and turned so that he could get undressed.

"I know, but... even so..." Quatre said unhappily as he took off his healer's robes and changed into plain clothes. Trowa folded up his robes and put them into the pack as he took them off. It had been so long since he'd worn anything else that it felt strange, but everything was a little strange and uncertain now. The clothes fit him well, though, and looked nice; at least Trowa had a good eye.

He sat down again as the coach jolted back into movement; they could hear the driver outside encouraging the horses to move forward on to the ferry. Trowa reached over and fixed the back of his shirt collar for him.

"I just wish I knew what was going to happen," Quatre said with a sigh, and buried his face in his hands. "Everything was going fine, until all... this. Not that finding each other was a bad thing," he added hastily. "Maybe I should have just done what the prelate suggested and ordered you to accept your freedom instead of going through all this bother." There was no humor in his voice.

"I'm sorry to have been so much trouble," Trowa said quietly, his head bowed down in the posture of submission.

"No. It's not your fault. It's the system that's stupid - of course you should have the freedom to choose whether or not you want your freedom! Nobody thought that anybody would choose 'no,' that's all," Quatre explained as he reached over to lift Trowa's chin up gently.

There was another jolt as the ferry came up against the opposite bank and then they were off, moving down the road again. Quatre let his hand drop back down to his lap.

"Besides, if I had realized what I was really getting into when I decided to become a healer... I'd never have met you here. I found out things I didn't want to know, but I also found you. That's got to count for something, right?" he asked with a hopeful smile. Trowa nodded silently in reply.

"It's nicer to do things on my own terms anyway... maybe you might not understand that, but I guess I may have always been that way... it's the same both here and there: I left home against my father's wishes to fight, and I left home against my family's wishes to become a healer. I didn't know what I was getting into, but I can at least try to get out of it here. I don't know, though. I don't think I've heard many stories about people leaving the healer's order... and I didn't exactly say I was leaving, either."

"Is that what this is about, then?" Trowa asked - meaning the whole having him pose as a hired sword, skipping town, changing clothes, Quatre's worry about being chased.

"Yes," Quatre answered with a twinge of guilt, realizing he hadn't done a very good job of explaining anything to Trowa. Without Trowa asking questions, it was easy to not say anything about what was going on. "I just can't... I can't be a part of something that says one thing and does the opposite behind closed doors. I thought I was a part of something above that, I guess. But I don't want to be part of something that's a lie."

"Sometimes people need lies to believe," Trowa said, and Quatre thought that was more something he might have said in the other world, but he didn't say anything about that.

"It's fine if you take it at face value, sure," he answered. "There's just something about finding corruption where you least expect it that leaves a bad taste in your mouth." He sighed, and changed the subject. "Anyway, we'll get some stuff together tomorrow and keep going. Maybe west, there's more people there, more places along the road so we can walk instead of spending money on coaches."

He didn't want to think about what might happen when their money ran out, but that was still a long way away. He'd never had to worry about it before - in either world - because here he was given everything he needed by the order and there he had his father's money. Now that he didn't have free money to throw around, once they spent what they had, and sold Trowa's deed of freedom and spent that, they'd have to find a way to make some more. He had his healer's skills and magic, of course, but he'd have to be careful about using it because it might give him away.

Quatre's attention drifted off in other directions as he stared out the window of the coach and watched the scenery go by, and worried about what would happen to them.

* * *

It took him a while to get used to it; there was a lot to get used to. There was something otherworldly and unnerving about having a shadow which moved independently of your motions, not to mention a shadow which whispered in your ear words no one else could hear.

Duo had told him that he wanted Heero to go pick up another job, so he went down to the street where all places which offered jobs to mercenaries were. He cruised around for a bit, skimming over the job descriptions posted outside every door, until he found one that struck his fancy and reached up to take it down.

"_Really?_" Duo whispered in his ear. "_Isn't that one a bit... easy?_"

"I'd like to live long enough to retire," he replied under his breath, trying not to move his lips; he didn't want anyone to think he was talking to himself.

He chuckled, and Heero wondered how long shadow children usually lived considering their line of work. Duo didn't say anything else, though, so Heero took the posting down and went inside to apply.

* * *

"Do you feel better, now that you've gotten all that off your chest?"

"I guess," Wufei answered as they lay in bed, not ready yet to get up.

Treize stroked his hair. "I'm just sorry I can't do anything for you there..."

"It's fine," Wufei interrupted him. "I don't need anything like that to worry about. I'm actually glad you didn't go there. But there's still just so much I didn't get to say, that I wanted to..."

"I'm sure we'll run into each other again, hopefully when we've got more time to sit down together and sort everything out."

"But not here."

"Not here," Treize acknowledged. "I won't bring it up again, I promise," he said, and kissed Wufei on the tip of his nose. "But I still want to hear you say you forgive me..."

"What happened to 'think about it'?" Wufei asked with a questioning smile, and Treize chuckled.

"Maybe I'm just too impatient to hear you say something else," he replied, and kissed Wufei again, this time on the mouth.

"Give me some time," Wufei said as he pushed Treize away gently and sat up, resting his arms on his knees. Treize pushed the sheets back and sat up as well, and put his arm around Wufei's shoulders. "But I do... I do forgive you," he replied, his voice falling to a whisper.


	20. Chapter 20

"Hey, Tro!" Duo called into the living room from halfway down the stairs, hanging over the banister. "Quatre wants you. _Again_," he said, and then sprang down the rest of the stairs and disappeared into the kitchen. Trowa put down his magazine and went upstairs to see what he was needed for _this_ time.

Quatre's door was ajar, but he knocked anyway before pushing the door open the rest of the way.

"Come in," Quatre said, turning away from his computer. Trowa came in. "Shut the door." He shut the door. "And..." Trowa twisted the lock before Quatre could finish his request, which he still seemed a little unsure about giving. Trowa knew what was up; he wasn't stupid, he just needed Quatre to give that little extra push and tell him what he wanted before Trowa could do anything. That was just the way he worked.

"You wanted me?"

"Um, yeah. Come here," Quatre said, and tried his best not to start getting nervous. He stood up from his chair as Trowa came over to his desk and stopped at the edge, about two feet from Quatre.

"Closer." Quatre couldn't stop his cheeks from getting a little pink as he asked and looked up at Trowa. One foot between them.

"C-closer." Six inches. His heart was hammering in his chest.

"Closer." The barest whisper, but Trowa heard, and Trowa obeyed. Only a hair's breadth separated them.

"What would you like me to do?" Trowa asked quietly. Quatre's cheeks were burning bright red, but he couldn't tear his eyes away from Trowa's gaze.

"K-ki-"

And Trowa's lips were on his before he could finish, soft and hot and better than he'd imagined, much better than the quick peck he'd stolen in the other world. He reached up to grasp Trowa's waist, pull him closer and trap himself between Trowa and the desk. The rush left him breathless, but not enough so that he couldn't manage to exhale a "don't stop" before the next round.

Trowa was pressing against him but there was nowhere else to go besides up on the desk so that was where he went, sitting on the edge and wrapping his legs around the backs of Trowa's knees as Trowa started to head down Quatre's neck. He brought his hand up to the top button of Quatre's shirt and played with it without undoing it until Quatre started to wriggle and reach up to try and undo it himself; and then Trowa had all the buttons undone in record time and Quatre's shirt halfway off his shoulders as he kept heading south.

He let his fingers wander down to tug at the waistband of Quatre's pants before pausing to come back up and kiss him again on the lips before whispering "bed?" in his ear.

Quatre agreed.

* * *

Quatre woke up the next morning somewhat later than he'd intended. Trowa was gone from the cot - he'd refused to share Quatre's bed as usual, saying it wasn't "proper" for a slave to do so, but Quatre hoped he would change his mind now - and also gone from the room.

He didn't worry; Trowa always woke up earlier than he did to do whatever it was he did in the mornings to get everything ready. Their packs were ready and waiting by the door, but seemed to be... missing something, Quatre thought. He got up and got ready for the day, hoping Trowa would return soon so they could eat and get on the road. Waiting around made him antsy, because he still worried that they would be sending someone after him for whatever reason. Maybe they wouldn't notice anything was amiss until he didn't show up at his next assignment, and if he was lucky that wouldn't be for another day or two by which time he would be long gone.

By the time Quatre got around to poking around in their packs to see what else they might need for the trip, he realized what was missing: his robes. With a sinking feeling, he realized that Trowa had probably taken them to get rid of them, because Trowa knew he wouldn't be able to let go of them himself. It left him with a hollow feeling inside.

Quatre knew there was no turning back from this path, but as long as he still had his healer's robes, it hadn't seemed quite so permanent of a choice. Now they were gone, and it was absolute. The robes were just a symbol, after all, but a powerful one. He had to remind himself that it wasn't the robes which mattered, it was his magic, his healer's craft, and his beliefs, and no one could take that from him or change him into something he wasn't.

Quatre made up his mind not to be angry with Trowa, and not to even bring it up unless he said something about it first. Just in time, too - as soon as he stepped back and sat down on the edge of the bed to think, Trowa returned.

"Are you ready to go?"

"Yes," Quatre answered as Trowa picked up their packs. "Where'd you go?"

"Out," Trowa answered simply. "The weather should be nice for the next few days."

"Good, then we can walk... and save some money." Quatre realized that he'd never had to worry about this before, in either world. Here, he could get whatever money he needed for travel and other expenses from the healer's temples; in the other world, he had his father's fortune to pull from. Now they'd have to watch how much they spent, because once it was gone that was that and they'd have to find a way to make more themselves.

With a sigh, Quatre got up from the bed and came over to take his pack from Trowa.

"Are you all right?" Trowa asked him, as if he knew that Quatre already knew what he had done; and he was right.

For an answer, Quatre just looked at him for a long moment, then finally said, "Yes. I'm fine. Let's go get something to eat and get out of this place," and smiled. No matter what, he couldn't stay angry at Trowa for more than a moment.

Trowa gave him the tiniest of smiles back, something which would have gone unnoticed by anyone else, but Quatre saw it, and he was happy.


	21. Chapter 21

Duo lounged up against the side of the dresser as he watched Heero finish clean and sharpen his sword, strap it back on his belt, pull on his boots, pick up his bag, and look around the bedroom as he tried to see if he'd forgotten anything. There was nothing left, so he looked to Duo instead.

"Ready, then?" Duo asked, and Heero nodded.

"I think so."

With a small shrug, Duo straightened up and came over to him to draw a finger down his jaw line and smiled at him. "Don't worry, I'll stay out of the way," he promised with a grin before melting down to the floor and pooling around Heero's feet then stretching out and taking on the shape of his shadow. Heero shuddered. He didn't ever think he'd get used to seeing Duo do that, or the feeling which came with it - the same kind of invasive feeling from when he'd first entered him, but not quite as bad and without all the strange flashes of memories. After taking a moment to readjust, he headed out. Duo had already checked out, so he left the building and headed straight for where he'd been told to meet his charge, at the coach yard.

Heero didn't know anything about who it was he'd be escorting except that they were some sort of royalty - he wasn't clear on the details. It wasn't a very long trip, and he was the only mercenary they'd hired for protection. Simple enough, he thought, and it would probably be a very boring ride, but the city they were going to was bigger and nearer to the capital, which meant more and better jobs to be had after he was done with this one. Heero didn't have any idea what Duo wanted to do or where he wanted to do and he hadn't said anything about it, so Heero figured he'd just keep on doing his own thing with Duo along for the ride until he said something to the contrary.

The coach yard was abuzz with activity, coaches leaving and arriving and being loaded and unloaded and people running around, but there was no mistaking the mane of long, platinum blonde hair that could belong to no one else. It stood out from the crowd no matter what. Duo noticed him first but didn't say anything to Heero, merely laughed silently to himself. Heero saw him a moment later, and stopped and did a double-take.

"_Bet's on that he's your job_," Duo whispered in his ear with a laugh.

"I hope not," Heero mumbled.

"_Only one way to find out!_"

With a sigh and a shake of his head, Heero headed in that direction, and as he did a coach boy caught sight of him and jogged over in his direction. "You the protection the Count of Folgore hired?"

"Sounds about right," Heero responded with a nod.

"Over 'ere, then," the boy said and headed back towards the owner of that unmistakable mane. Duo laughed some more, and Heero did his best to ignore it. "'Ere you are, sir," he said as they approached, and the Count turned. "'Ere's the merc."

Just like when Quatre had told them in the other world, the flash of sudden overwhelming recognition flashed across his face and left him stunned for a moment.

"Didn't expect to run into you here, Zechs," Heero said after the moment had passed.

"I... Milliardo, actually," he stammered. "And I certainly wasn't expecting you either."

"Ya know each other? Well, I'm off," said the boy with a tip of his hat, and scooted off to help someone else.

"This is... interesting," Milliardo mused. "Why don't you seem shocked?"

"I already knew," Heero replied with a shrug. "Now are we going somewhere or not?"

"Yes, of course!" he replied, shaking off the surprise and getting back on track. "We can talk on the way there." Not regular protocol, as hired protection usually rode outside the coach with the driver in order to spot trouble, but Heero didn't think it would matter and they weren't traveling with anybody else.

Milliardo turned and went to the front of the coach to tell the driver that they were ready to leave, and a different boy appeared as if by magic to open the coach door and let them inside. Once they were settled and the coach was pulling out of the yard, Milliardo started up the conversation again.

"So..."

"So," Heero echoed.

"I suppose this is rather awkward, isn't it? Considering our past... history."

"What 'history'? We've never met before."

"Ah. I understand," Milliardo said, and relaxed a little, exhaling audibly.

"You hired me to protect you, and I'm not going to ruin my credibility here for a feud in another world," Heero responded. "Besides, I've got no idea whether dying in one world means dying in the other."

"True, I suppose. Which brings me to the question... just what is going on here?"

Heero shrugged and glanced out the window for a moment before replying. "We're still not sure. I think all of us thought they were just dreams, but then when Quatre and Trowa ran into each other in this world..."

"So it's all five of you? And me, now? What makes us so special? You'd think in a world - or two - with so many people, someone would have encountered someone they knew before this..." Milliardo mused.

"I have no idea. As far as I know, yes, it's just us and you."

"_And someone else, someone Wufei knows_," Duo pointed out to Heero. "_He knew before Quat and Tro met_." Heero didn't pass this information on to Milliardo, since he didn't know anything more than that.

"I see..."

Heero had a thought. "Wait. What about Relena, then? Is she not your sister here?"

"No, not unless I don't know about it. I don't have any siblings here."

"_Bet you're relived, huh?_" Duo said with a chuckle; Heero ignored him. They'd agreed that unless things turned nasty - which Heero didn't expect anyway - they'd keep Duo's presence a secret when Heero was on a job.

"Interesting." He turned the conversation towards his business there. "So anyway, I forgot to ask - are you expecting any trouble on this trip?"

"Not particularly, no. It's just that there's been rumors of bandits on this route recently and I didn't want to take the chance," Milliardo told him. "I'm only going to visit some friends for a week, no business that would upset anyone, and I don't really have any enemies."

"I haven't heard anything of the sort, but I just arrived here a few days ago."

"_They're just rumors_," Duo supplied helpfully, "_this is going to be a boring trip_." Heero would have liked to give him a sarcastic retort, but was blocked by Milliardo's presence.

"Well, on the off chance that they do show up, I suppose I can trust you to deal with them...?"

"That's what I'm here for, aren't I?" Heero responded irately. "I already told you, I'm not going to ruin my credit here for something over there."

"Just making sure," Milliardo apologized. "I'd hate to find out what would happen to me there if something were to happen to me here."

"Nothing, probably," Heero said with a shrug, but he wasn't sure if he believed it himself. Since they really had nothing more to talk about at that point, the conversation drifted off into silence, Milliardo alone with his thoughts and Heero on the alert for any sign of trouble.


	22. Chapter 22

It was starting to get dark by the time they spotted the lights of the farmhouse, and since they didn't want to spend another night like last night, sleeping by the side of the road without the security of a roof and four walls, they picked up the pace and reached it just before the sun disappeared below the horizon. Quatre knocked on the door and hoped that someone was still up to answer it, and that they would be willing and able to put the two of them up for the night.

They didn't have to wait long before the door was opened by a weary-looking woman.

"We're sorry to bother you at this hour, ma'am, but we're travelers and it's getting dark..." Quatre began, not outright wanting to ask for a place to sleep but rather just suggest that was what he was heading towards.

"I'd let you come in and offer you a proper bed, but you see my son's awful sick right now and I wouldn't want you to catch anything. I can offer you some blankets and the use of our barn loft though, if that's all right with you," she replied.

"Is he all right?" Quatre asked. "I know a little bit about medicine and all that," he said, not wanting to say outright what he was - or had been - in case the healers came asking around trying to find him.

"Is that so?" the woman asked, and opened the door a little wider. "I mean, if you're not worried about getting sick and it's not too much trouble to take a look at him... it's just that my husband's gone off to the city and he won't be back for at least another week and just me and my two girls can't run this farm by ourselves so it's been mighty hard with my son in bed."

"No problem," Quatre assured her. "Besides, I couldn't accept your hospitality without giving you something back."

"A barn's not very much hospitality - more than I'd offer otherwise - but if you can do something, anything at all for my son, well, that's more than enough payment for a roof and then a nice, hearty breakfast tomorrow to get you on your way." That said, she opened the door all the way for them to come in.

"Should I wait here?" Trowa asked.

"How 'bout I give you some blankets and show you out to the barn while your friend takes a look? Here, his room's right here," she said, and pushed open the first door in the hallway. "Jake? You up? You've got some company. This young man here is going take a look at you and see what he can do, all right? Now you, come here to the closet with me," she said to Trowa.

Quatre entered the bedroom and closed the door behind him. He was glad he wouldn't have an audience; it would be easier to hide his magic that way. With a deep breath he approached the bed and his patient. The boy was awake but looked pale, and was shivering even though he was under a thick blanket.

"Hello," Quatre addressed him cheerfully. "Can you tell me what seems to be the problem? And how long have you been sick?"

"A couple'a days," the boy mumbled. "Hada fever but it went away, now I'm cold but I'm hot and my head hurts and everything else."

"Have you been eating much?" Quatre asked as he laid his hand on the boy's forehead. His skin was clammy and he didn't have a fever now, but his temperature wasn't what Quatre was feeling for - his touch went much deeper than that.

"Had some broth," the boy replied. "Not much."

"Are you just not hungry? Or is your stomach upset?"

"Don't feel like eating."

Quatre felt like he had a grasp on the root of the sickness now; it was something he'd been trained to feel and heal. "All right. Now close your eyes, and you're going to feel very warm and sleepy," he told him.

Like a good boy used to taking orders from his father, he promptly shut his eyes, then asked, "is this gonna hurt?"

"No, not at all," Quatre assured him. "Just lie still and relax."

There was nothing different about it at all. It was his same old magic just like before, not like when he'd kissed Trowa's cut better and his magic sprang up hot to his lips.

When he took his hand away the boy was fast asleep, and was already starting to look much better. With a smile, Quatre stood up and left the room as he heard the woman returning from outside.

"Well? What do you think?" she asked.

"He should be feeling much better tomorrow - just make sure he gets plenty to eat and drink, and make him rest. By the day after he should be good as new and ready to be put back to work," Quatre told her cheerfully.

"Oh, you're heaven-sent, you are. Thank you so much! Here, let me show you out to the barn - your friend's putting together a bed with some of the hay. I'm sorry I can't offer you more..."

"It's no problem, really," Quatre assured her, and followed her out and across the yard to the barn while she carried the lantern.

"Here you go, then. Breakfast'll be ready a little after sunup," she told him, and left him at the barn door.

Quatre went in; there was a lantern hanging up in the loft, and he found the ladder and went up as well. As she'd said, Trowa was busy spreading out a nice, thick bed of hay to lay their blankets and sheets over - but Quatre thought it looked a little small.

"Shouldn't you make it a little bigger?" he suggested.

"It's just for you," Trowa replied.

"There's not enough blankets here for two beds. Make it bigger and we can sleep together," Quatre told him; he wasn't about to let Trowa get away from him here, slave or not.

Silently, Trowa did as he was told and got more hay, then when it was bigger he spread one of the two blankets over the top for them to lay on, then a sheet, then the other blanket. Quatre stripped down to his undergarments and crawled into bed.

"Much more comfortable than sleeping on the ground," he proclaimed, and waited for Trowa to get ready for bed and turn down the flame of the lantern. When he had done so, and gotten under the covers - at the edge of the bed, with his back to Quatre - Quatre reached over and pulled him closer. He wasn't really intending to do anything, but he couldn't stop his hand from wandering, caressing Trowa's flat stomach and chest until he couldn't stand it any more, he had to back away a little and pull Trowa over onto his back and kiss him.

Trowa didn't protest, but Quatre didn't expect him to, and he figured things were probably going to be a little different here anyway. He'd have to be the one to take the lead or else Trowa would probably say something about how it wasn't 'proper' for a slave to be on top or some equally idiotic, unspoken rule which Quatre had never heard of.

Quatre still wasn't one hundred percent certain about what he was doing because he'd only been on the receiving end and that was in the other world, but Trowa seemed to be enjoying it and even guiding him a little so he figured he must be doing all right. He did know, though, that this was an even bigger step on the road to never going back. To break the healer's vow of celibacy was punishable by banishment and exile, and since he'd never heard of such a thing or ever encountered an exiled healer, he assumed the worst: that he had been lied to, and that the real punishment was death - something so totally against the healer's beliefs that before, he never would have even dared to guess such a thing could be possible. Robes were something he could get back, but there was no going back from this.

* * *

When he came it spread through him white-hot, welling up from some reserve of magic deep inside that he'd never been aware of before. It was a good feeling, but it scared him because he was pretty sure that wasn't supposed to happen, same as the feeling when he'd healed Trowa's finger except he wasn't trying to _do_ anything this time. But he couldn't communicate any of this to Trowa because as soon as it came it was gone again, deep back inside of him though he could still feel it pulsing, and with a sigh he collapsed, exhausted, and fell asleep as he let Trowa clean things up.

* * *

Trowa was gone again in the morning. Quatre made a mental note to tell him to stop doing that. He wanted to be able to go to sleep next to him in one world and wake up next to him in the other. With a yawn he sat up, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, and got dressed before coming down and looking for Trowa.

It was not yet dawn, the sun's light just starting to spread out over the sky. The sound of an axe led Quatre around the back of the barn and it was there that he found Trowa busy splitting logs for firewood. Trowa didn't notice him, so Quatre just stood there, leaning up against the side of the barn, and watched him for a while until he noticed that he had an audience.

"I wanted to pay for myself, and I saw the wood pile was low..." he explained, and Quatre just smiled and shook his head and came over to kiss him. He smelled good, a little sweaty from the exertion. And Quatre knew he'd done something right after all, because he didn't think he'd ever heard Trowa try to explain his actions unprompted and with so many words. He thought it was cute.

"The sun's almost up. Should we go see if breakfast is ready? I'm starving," Quatre said with a cheeky grin. He didn't have any time to worry about what had happened last night; dwelling on the rest - and on Trowa - was much nicer.


	23. Chapter 23

Almost depressingly, nothing out of the ordinary happened on the trip. No bandits attacked their coach. Shortly after nightfall they arrived at Milliardo's final destination, a large and bustling city. From the coach house Heero escorted him to the home of his friends, and dropped him off there.

"So... I suppose we'll not cross paths here again," Milliardo began as they stood before the gate of the modest estate where he would be visiting.

"Maybe, maybe not," Heero replied with a shrug. It had been a rather long and boring day, except for meeting Milliardo, and he was ready to get some rest if Duo would let him.

"Well, I suppose it can't be helped. Here's your payment for the safe journey." He handed the money to Heero, who put it away. "You probably won't be sticking around here for long, will you...?"

"Probably not."

"Well then... it was interesting anyway, and if you need to, I suppose you know where to find me or who to ask for," Milliardo said with a smile.

"Right."

"Goodbye, then, though I'm sure we'll run into each other in the other world soon enough."

Without returning his goodbye, Heero saw him through the gate and waited to make sure he was safely inside and his job was complete before leaving and heading for the nearest inn. Once they were out of sight of the house, Duo pulled himself back up out of Heero's shadow to stalk silently beside him.

"I guess it's a good thing that we weren't attacked, but I'm a little disappointed," Duo said. "I haven't seen how you fight yet."

"It's only a matter of time," Heero replied.

"True, I suppose..." Duo lapsed into silence as they walked, then after a few moments said with a grin, "I was tempted to show myself, just to see the look on his face... good thing restraint and patience are things I have plenty of!"

"Too bad you don't have them in the other world," Heero said with a snort.

Duo merely smiled, and they kept walking.

* * *

After breakfast and being thanked profusely by their hostess for making her son feel better, Quatre and Trowa hit the road again. Their luck with good weather continued, and Quatre's spirits were considerably higher after last night though a tiny bit of doubt about what had happened with his magic remained. By this point he was fairly certain - though not quite one hundred percent - that he was in the clear as far as any pursuit went, so he tried not to let it weigh on his spirits any more than he had to.

It was in this way that many days passed on their travels, and they found themselves quickly running out of money. Though they tried to cut corners when they could, they still had to buy basic necessities like food; even Quatre couldn't survive on other people's kindness alone. They still had Trowa's deed of freedom, but Quatre was reluctant to part with it. He knew Trowa didn't want it, but it was a precious commodity and there was no way to get another without going through the healers - something Quatre couldn't do anymore.

They stopped at the cheapest inn in the city and rented the cheapest room available, even though they didn't really have anything to spare for it. Somehow it seemed the most logical thing to do, to rest up in a decent bed while they still could and think about how they were going to get through tomorrow. Trowa watched as Quatre counted out their remaining coins and divvied them up into how much they could afford to spend on meals. He reached over and stopped Quatre's hand after he'd put tomorrow's breakfast and lunch money back into the coin purse.

"I have an idea."

"What is it?" Quatre asked eagerly, but Trowa's face reflected none of it.

"I know you don't want to sell the deed, so..." he paused and took a breath, because he knew Quatre would not like what he was about to suggest. "I told you that I'd fought for betting money."

"Trowa... no. I don't want you to. It's dangerous, it's illegal, and we don't have money to waste," Quatre replied as he shook his head and started counting out dinner.

"It's that or sell the deed."

"Trowa..."

"I can win. It won't be a waste, we won't get caught - and if I get hurt, I've got you."

Quatre didn't like the idea at all, but he had to admit that this was the most direct Trowa had ever been with him so far in this world, and he appreciated that. "I just don't want you to... to... have to do something like that any more," he finished lamely, unable to find the right words to express his sentiments.

Trowa understood him, though. "I don't mind it, if it's for us," he explained. "You don't have to do everything yourself, Quatre. That's what I'm here for."

Us. Quatre liked hearing that word from him. "I don't know..."

"It's common for slaves to place bets on themselves, to keep their master anonymous. You don't have to watch. You don't even have to be there," Trowa explained.

"No. If you're going to do that, then I want to make sure you come out all right," Quatre told him. "If you think you can do it, without getting badly hurt, then... even though I don't like fighting... I trust you know your own abilities."

"I won't let you down," Trowa promised him. "We'll only go as long as we need to."

"All right. But I will only - _only_ - let you do this because I don't want to part with the deed just yet," Quatre warned him.

"I understand." After a few moments of silence, Trowa took the initiative to step forward and embrace Quatre, who hugged him even tighter in return and didn't let him go for several minutes.

Quatre hesitated to start anything because he was afraid that the same thing would happened if he did, but he still looked up and kissed Trowa before pulling away from him.

"If that's what we're going to do, then we should get some sleep," he suggested, and Trowa mutely agreed.

* * *

"You guys are too fuckin' cute," Duo said over his coffee with a grin. "Seriously, you're already acting like a married couple!"

Quatre blushed. "We are not!"

Trowa didn't say anything, merely gave Quatre a small smile.

"Yes you are. You're all 'Trowa can you do this? Trowa can you do that?' And you've been together what, a little more than a week? What about in the other world?"

"It's none of your business," Trowa intervened, but Quatre answered anyway.

"Well, I'm not really a healer... not anymore..." Quatre told him with a troubled expression.

"Not...? I didn't think you could just up and quit like that, can you?"

"I didn't exactly 'quit', I just..."

"Ran away?" Duo supplied helpfully, and leaned back. "Ha. I figured something like that, with how you and Trowa are. But they aren't friendly to their rule-breakers, are they?"

Quatre didn't think to wonder how he might know about that, but then again he didn't know what Duo was in the other world.

"That's enough," Trowa said, and saved Quatre from having to explain further.


	24. Chapter 24

"I came to talk to you about -"

"You know my rules. Take that goddamn thing off."

With a smile, Zechs took off his mask and set it down on the table. "I gather you're not in a good mood today?"

"Could be better," Treize grumbled. "What do you want?"

"Maybe I have some good news for you... or at least some _interesting_ news." He moved over to the empty couch and took a seat. "Come on over here. You need a break."

"What I need is a drink," Treize said with a sigh as he stood up.

"You should watch that," Zechs advised him. "You're going to run yourself into the ground before you're thirty."

"God help me if live that long."

"Cut that out," Zechs replied, and playfully smacked him on the back of the head as he sat down.

"All right, was is it you came to tell me about?" Treize asked as he leaned back and stretched his legs out, propping them up on the coffee table.

"You'll never guess who I ran into... or where," Zechs said excitedly.

"Go on. You know I'm terrible at guessing-games." It was a lie, but Treize wasn't in the mood, so Zechs humored him.

"I met Heero Yuy... in another world."

If Zechs had expected Treize to react to this, either with recognition or laughter, he was sorely disappointed.

"Wouldn't doubt it."

"What?" Zechs asked, genuinely confused for the moment. "You believe me?"

"Of course I believe you. I've known about that other world for _months_," Treize said, but Zechs wasn't entirely sure he wasn't pulling his leg and just going along with the joke.

"How did you find out, then?"

"I ran into one of the other Gundam pilots."

"Which one?"

"Guess," Treize said, and finally smiled a little. Zechs took that as a good sign, and stretched his arm out across the back of the couch and behind Treize.

"Hm. I'd have to say... Chang?"

"Bingo." Treize swatted Zech's hand away from his shoulder.

"I thought he was trying to kill you. Isn't he?"

"We've come to an... agreement," Treize replied. "I'm really much, much happier in that world."

Zechs dove straight to the point. "You're fucking him, aren't you?"

"Do you have to say it like that?" Treize asked, and, from behind his hand, whispered "God, I love him."

"A-ha," Zechs exclaimed. "That's your problem. You're not getting any here." He moved his hand down to Treize's shoulder again, and this time it wasn't knocked away. "What do I keep telling you? You need to get laid."

"And I suppose you came to volunteer, didn't you? Sorry, but it's not happening." Treize stood up, if only to get away from him, but Zechs got up too and reached for him, sliding his arms around Treize's waist and catching him fast. "Let me go, Zechs."

Zechs knew Treize was getting angry because he usually called him Milliardo when they were in private, but he was willing to press his luck tonight since he figured he had the leverage he needed now. "Why would I want to do that?" he asked with a smile, and began to nibble on Treize's earlobe.

"Stop it," Treize grunted, and reached up to push Zech's face away, but Zechs caught his wrist before he got there.

"You _need_ this," Zechs told him, and let his wrist go to tug at and un-tuck Treize's shirt. If Treize was intending to resist him, he wasn't doing a very good job of it thus far.

"I told you to stop..."

"Oh, just shut up and enjoy it." Zechs scolded him lightly with a nip on the ear before moving down to his neck as one hand moved up and under Treize's shirt. He brought Treize back down to the couch, then pushed him over before he could get away.

* * *

"Don't look at me like that. I know you liked it," Zechs told him afterwards. "And I bet you feel better too, don't you?"

"Maybe a little," Treize grumbled into the cushions. "But you're not spending the night."

Zechs laughed. "Fair enough," he said, and picked up his pants up off the floor and pulled them back on. "You still want something to drink?"

"_God_ yes."

With a chuckle and a shake of his head, Zechs got up and went over to the bar to pour drinks for the both of them as Treize put his own clothes back on. He got as far as putting on his shirt, but didn't button it before Zechs handed him a glass and sat back down. Treize didn't even bother to take a whiff and see what was in the glass before knocking back half of it at once.

Zechs took a drink from his own glass and chuckled before setting it down on the coffee table and leaning back to stare at the ceiling and stretch his neck. "So what are you going to do?"

Treize stared at the far wall over the rim of his glass. "First, I'm going to get drunk off my ass and try to forget tonight ever happened. Then I'm going to kick you out and go to bed, and I'm going to sleep until noon at _least_."

Zechs chuckled. "That's not what I meant. I meant what are you going to do about him here?"

"I told you, we have an understanding with each other."

"And...?"

"And I'm not telling you a damn thing," Treize replied, and downed the second half of his glass and waved it in Zechs' general direction. "Now either refill my glass or get out."

"You can't avoid it," Zechs said as he took the glass and got up to refill it. "How does that work? What did you do for him over there to get him to change his mind?"

"Oh, you know... saved his life, freed him from slavery, gave him a place to live and work..." Treize replied, and accepted his now-full glass from Zechs. It didn't stay full for very long.

"Do tell," Zechs prompted him as he sat back down and took a drink of his own. He knew very well that Treize was talkative when drunk, especially when he had something to either brag or rant about.

"Well I didn't even know it was him when I found him," Treize began. "I was heading home and I decided to cut through the slave market - which is a place I don't usually go - and I felt something. I'm a sorcerer there, did you know? What about you?"

"Me? I'm just a count. Nobody special, I suppose."

"Royalty. Ugh. They always want favors and talismans and I don't like dealing with them. Not to say that you're the same, because I'm sure you aren't. And that's just there, not here. No one gives a damn about whether or not you're royalty here any more, do they? It's nothing but a fancy title now, it doesn't mean anything. You can even buy it." Treize paused to take another swallow.

"So you bought him, I gather?"

"Yes. It was a steal, too. The slave owner had no idea what he had! But I could feel it. He was dying, so I took him home and fixed him up, and then I gave him to my housekeeper and forgot about him for a week or so. Then one night he was sneaking around and came to my study, and then, suddenly, we recognized each other and realized that there were two worlds! Isn't it strange? I really wonder why it never happened before, to meet somebody that we know here, there, or there, here. How can it be so few of us, and why just the five of them and the two of us?"

"I have no idea," Zechs murmured. "It is kind of strange."

"It's very strange. I don't think it's just coincidence, either."

"So you bought him, and what then?"

"Then he challenged me to a duel for his freedom, and he beat me into the ground. I figured it would be easy to beat him, right? Because I've beat him here before. But no, he's much, much better over there. Or I'm worse. Maybe both. I mean, since he's Tsothian he couldn't use his magic to fight - they don't like sorcerers, you know - so he had to use a sword. Anyway, he won and I gave him his freedom and his magic back on the condition he stay, because really, where else could he go? His home had been destroyed in some attack. So he stayed with me and eventually I got him to like me back."

"Then what about here? Even if he owed you over there, what about here?"

"Oh, that," Treize said with a sigh, and finished off his glass. Zechs took it without being prompted and refilled it from the decanter on the coffee table, which he'd brought back with him. "That was the big obstacle in our relationship, and he never wanted me to bring it up even though it needed to happen. I did, of course, and I feel bad about it, but it really was for the better. We met here, I let him get everything off his chest, I apologized, and he forgave me."

"You never really told me what it was that he was so mad at you about..."

"And I'm not going to," Treize said abruptly. "It doesn't have anything to do with you. It's just between him and I."

Having been rebuffed three times trying to find out why Wufei had hated Treize so much, Zechs decided it was better saved for another night before Treize got too angry with his questioning and dropped the subject.


	25. Chapter 25

Quatre let Trowa do the talking for once, since he didn't have a clue what he was supposed to be doing other than tagging along. They left after lunch and Trowa led the way over towards the richer side of town. The place was just a street over from what seemed to be the edge of the poorer district, and was right off the street which contained most of the city's bars and brothels. The establishments here were closer to gentleman's clubs, and Quatre nearly asked whether or not Trowa had the right place, but he trusted Trowa to know what he was doing. After all, this had ultimately been Trowa's decision; if he'd never brought it up, Quatre would either have had him sell the deed, or tried to find some other way to make money that wasn't quite so dangerous or illegal.

Unfortunately Trowa had had to leave his sword behind at the inn, since he would look strange carrying it around with him in that quarter and weapons weren't allowed in the fights, and it made Quatre feel uneasy. Being dressed as a regular person made him feel exposed, no longer safe from thieves or rabble-rousers, and not having a weapon between them made it worse. He hadn't realized how much protection his status and robes afforded him until they were gone.

Trowa had Quatre go in ahead of him, after pulling him aside for a moment to tell him what to say to get them inside; this way, they were making a statement about who was the master and who the slave. Although Quatre felt like trying to back out and argue with Trowa then and there about not doing this, he already knew he'd probably lose because he didn't have any alternatives to offer besides selling the deed. It would seem wishy-washy of him if he suddenly agreed that it was all right to sell it, after effectively agreeing to put Trowa in danger just so they could keep it a while longer - so he bit his lip and kept silent as they entered the building and went down the stairs.

It was a nice enough place, Quatre thought, though he'd never been inside any kind of bar before. This early in the day it was deserted, save for one lone man down at the end reading a paper and smoking a fat cigar who took no notice of them. The barkeep came over to them and gave them an odd look.

"What can I get you?"

Quatre hesitated, nervously, then asked for what Trowa had told him to say. "I... I'd like a private room. With a view. Please," he tacked onto the end hastily, almost as an afterthought.

"Down this hall here, last door on the right," the bartender said promptly, and pointed to a set of open doors.

"Thank you," Quatre exhaled quietly, and hurried towards them with Trowa following in his wake. He very much did not want to be there, and he still didn't know what to expect. Trowa seemed unconcerned.

The hallway seemed a little longer than the depth of the building as it had appeared from outside, but Quatre didn't pay it much mind. They went to the end of the hallway, to the last door on the right as they'd been told. Quatre hesitated, so Trowa reached forwards and opened it for him. There was nothing beyond but another hallway; Quatre let out his held breath. Silently, Trowa followed him. It seemed to stretch on forever, and Quatre was about to say something in complaint when suddenly they reached the end. To the left was a staircase, so they went up.

At the top was a closed door, but it had no handle. Quatre was ready to give up and turn around.

"Knock," Trowa suggested before Quatre could say anything about going back. With a troubled sigh, he did so.

The door was opened by a man, clearly a slave, who welcomed them silently and with head bowed and gestured for them to enter.

The room was duskily lit, with no windows, though the ceiling was a bit higher than the usual construction. Here and there were tables and chairs, and a few gentlemen strolling about - and, Quatre was shocked to see, ladies as well - and the great majority of them had slaves following them about, holding their drinks or being proudly shown off. Quatre felt completely out of place. Trowa, on the other hand, seemed at ease, or even a bit... excited.

He nudged Quatre over towards the far corner, where there were some empty tables and they could talk together without drawing attention.

"They haven't started yet," he told Quatre after he'd sat down; Trowa remained standing next to him. "When they're ready, everyone who wants to watch will move to the next room."

"Do you need to... register, or something?" Quatre asked.

"Yes. Give me the money," he affirmed.

"All of it? But..."

"As long as I win my rounds, we'll get all of it back even if no one else bets on me," he explained to Quatre. "It's conducted tournament-style, until only one is left. How many rounds depends on the number of fighters," he said, looking around the room.

"Do you have to be the last one?"

"Bets are placed per fight. I should lose and drop out around the middle of the tournaments the first few times."

"And that's why you said we might have to come here more than once? But why would you lose, if we want money?"

"To keep the odds low. Lower odds mean more money when I do make it to the top."

"I don't really understand, but... if you say so. I guess you know what you're doing more than I do. Try not to get hurt," Quatre said with a sigh, and handed him the very last of their funds.

Trowa nodded, took the money, and left Quatre sitting alone at the table, feeling very out of place and worrying about whether everything would turn out all right.


	26. Chapter 26

It was quite different than what he'd expected - more like a boxing match without gloves than a lawless back-alley brawl. Quatre tried not to pay attention to Trowa's opponent, but it was hard; no matter if it was Trowa or the other slave who landed a punch, he still winced. Quatre wasn't a good judge of fist fights in either world, but it seemed to him like Trowa was the better fighter even though he stayed mostly on the defense, testing both his opponent and himself. He only threw a punch when there was a sure opening, even if he was fast enough to get in more than that. Quatre wondered exactly how long it had been - and how young Trowa had been - since he'd been in the ring last.

Trowa won his first fight, and they retired to the back of the crowd while the next fighters took the stage.

"Are you all right?" Quatre asked as he reached toward Trowa's face where there was already a light bruise spreading along his jaw. Trowa knocked his hand away.

"Don't," he advised. "It's against the rules."

Quatre's face fell.

" This is nothing," Trowa assured him. "The higher you go, the more brutal it gets."

"Are you sure you're all right with this?" Quatre asked him again. Trowa nodded.

"I'm fine. Don't worry."

"You know I can't do that..." Quatre said with a troubled smile. "Just don't push yourself too hard, okay?"

"I won't," Trowa promised him.

* * *

Quatre resolved to pay more attention to Trowa's second fight, to try and concentrate more on the fighting and not so much on who was getting hurt. Trowa seemed a bit more confident, even though his opponent looked like he'd made it to the top a fair few times. Quatre was certain that Trowa was downplaying his abilities and allowing himself to be hit, but he didn't say anything about it to him after he'd won the match with what he heard several people around him murmur was a "lucky" knockout.

He tried not to pay too much attention to the other people there, the slave owners, because he was trying not to get them to pay much attention to him. It seemed to be working, for the most part; or maybe they assumed he was just another slave because of his plain clothes. It didn't matter to him, as long as they didn't suspect the truth.

Trowa didn't say anything to him between his second and third fights, so Quatre wasn't sure how far up the tournament ladder Trowa intended to climb that day.

During the third fight, Trowa seemed a little more wary of his opponent. He wasn't a large man, but even to Quatre's untrained eye he moved like he was used to fighting and winning.

Trowa lost the fight with a gut-wrenching blow to the stomach that doubled him over, and Quatre hovered near him worriedly as he stumbled out of the ring and kneeled down to catch his breath and recover. Quatre wasn't sure how much of it was acting and how much was real, but he was afraid to reach out to feel or heal the damage while they were still there.

After a few minutes he assured Quatre that he was fine, and went to collect their earnings from the first two fights before they left. He gave the money back to Quatre, but didn't say anything more until they were back in their tiny room at the inn.

"We should have enough now to stay a few more nights and pay for meals," he assured Quatre, who had felt the weight of the money pouch but hadn't looked inside.

"Are we going back tomorrow? Or...?

"In two days. There aren't fights every day."

"Let's just... try not to stay here _too_ long, all right? Even though I think we're probably safe by now." Quatre still wasn't sure he believed that, but saying it out loud made it sound more positive. "And what about...?" He reached out towards Trowa again, concerned for his wounds, and this time Trowa didn't knock his arm away. He was hesitant, not having needed to use his magic since that night in the barn loft, but he slid an arm around Trowa's shoulders anyway, his other hand on Trowa's stomach and his lips on the bruise on his chin, and let his magic flow. "Better?"

Trowa nodded.

"Good," he said with a sigh, and stole a quick kiss. "How many more times to you think we'll go back?"

"Two or three," Trowa replied. "To see who keeps coming back and winning, who I'll have to fight."

"As long as you know what you're doing..." Quatre trailed off, not wanting it to seem like he was scolding Trowa or telling him to hurry up or anything like that.

Trowa reached over and put his hand on top of Quatre's.

* * *

Everything seemed to be going well, so far. Money-wise they were back to where they'd started, but that didn't last long. They went back, Trowa fought again, and he made it up to the fifth round before dropping out. Again, they waited another three days, but now they had more money to spare the third time around - and more to bet with.

Trowa was right about the fights being more brutal the higher towards the top they went. It wasn't just that they fought harder in order to win; it was that they fought harder in order _not to lose_. Trowa had explained to him - as he listened in morbid fascination - some of the punishments faced by the losers at the hands of their masters, and some of them made the fighting pale by comparison. It almost made him want Trowa to lose just so his opponents wouldn't have to suffer that kind of thing, but if they needed the money they didn't have any choice but to win - and of course, Trowa assured them that not all slaves were punished for losing in that manner, and he himself had not been punished in the past. Quatre wasn't sure if such a reassurance made a difference, except to let him know that there was _some_ leniency there.

But then, of course, Trowa also had to tell him about the death matches. It made Quatre feel much better about the tournaments Trowa was taking part in, where losing didn't mean death, but it still sickened him that such things could still exist let alone provide _entertainment_ for some people.

* * *

"I'm going to go for the top today," Trowa told Quatre after they'd gone back to their room after breakfast to get ready.

"Are you sure? Do you think you'll be all right?"

"I've been holding back," Trowa promised him. "As long as it's the same people, there shouldn't be any surprises."

"I'm not a good judge of fighting so I can't really tell when you are or aren't acting or holding back or whatever, so... if you think you can do it, that's up to you. Better now than wait another few days, I guess. I just don't feel comfortable staying here for too long."

"I know," Trowa replied.

"That doesn't mean you have to rush it, though," Quatre added hastily. "I'd rather stay longer than have you get really messed up or something."

"I'll be fine," Trowa assured him. "But..."

"But?"

"About the bets. I've been betting the same amount on each fight to make sure we take something home, but if this is the last time..."

"If you're absolutely sure you can win, then it's up to you," Quatre told him. "I don't know anything about any of this, so I trust your judgment. We're just doing this for the money, after all." It felt bad to say it like that, but it was the truth. "Just don't take that to mean you _have_ to go for the top if it's not worth it, as long as we end up with enough to get by for a while."

Trowa nodded.


	27. Chapter 27

Quatre reached out and touched Trowa's arm, just to let him know he was there for him. Everything seemed to be going well so far; Trowa had made it to the top and now they were waiting for the fight which would determine his opponent in the final round to finish up. It hurt Quatre to see Trowa hurting, even though his eyes told a different story.

Since he couldn't tell him what he wanted to say, instead he did his best to cheer him on. "I know you'll win," Quatre assured him. "It looked like it seemed easier today, wasn't it?"

"Maybe," Trowa replied.

"Are you worried? You can still stop now, right? Before their fight is over?"

"I'm fine. It doesn't matter who wins, and they're doing half the job for me."

Quatre saw this was true, but it was also true that Trowa had taken quite a beating, especially in the last two rounds. He was right; the higher you advanced, the more brutal it got.

"But you're sure you'll be all right?"

"Yes," Trowa answered as the fight finished, and he looked over to see who was the victor. Quatre didn't look; he didn't want to see how the loser had fared, just as he felt sorry for each of Trowa's opponents.

"Promise?" Quatre asked, looking into his eyes.

"Yes."

Quatre smiled, satisfied with his sincerity. "Okay, then. Do your best," he said, and then leaned forwards to kiss him on the cheek.

It happened to quickly for him to stop, his magic springing to his lips unbidden and white-hot and pouring into Trowa, healing him. Trowa jerked away, but it was too late.

"What -"

Quatre's hands flew to his mouth, as if covering it up could undo it. "I didn't mean - it just - it just _happened_, I didn't even _do_ anything!" he exclaimed as his eyes teared up.

Slowly, gradually, eyes began to shift to the corner where they were sitting and mouths began to whisper. It was time for the final match - but what was this, now?

"Oh, sh -" The meaning of what he had just done dawned on Quatre, and he stared at Trowa with wide eyes.

The match referee came through the small crowd towards them, summoned by wagging tongues.

"What's going on here?"

Trowa looked down as Quatre watched him desperately. The referee's eyes narrowed.

"The opponent appears to have been healed with magic. The match is forfeit," he declared, and the whispers escalated to excited conversation. Quatre couldn't hear it; he was too shocked.

"Trowa..."

"Let's go," he said quietly as he stood up and took Quatre's wrist and pulled him towards the door, ignoring the crowd around them. It didn't matter then that his behavior was unorthodox for a slave; at that point, he just wanted to make sure Quatre got out of there before anyone figured out exactly what had happened.

It wasn't until they were halfway down the hallway that Quatre stopped him and asked him.

"What about the money? Aren't you going to go get the money from the other fights?"

Trowa stopped, and didn't look back at him.

"There's... there's still some, right? Even though the last match was forfeit?"

"I bet everything," Trowa said quietly.

"But... you still kept some just in case, right? Right?"

"Everything," Trowa repeated, more firmly.

"Every..."

"Let's go to the inn," Trowa said calmly. "Tonight's been paid for. We can leave in the morning." Trowa began walking.

"But... you mean..." He paused, and turned back to look at Quatre. Quatre looked at him, and down the hall from where they'd come, and back at him again with a stunned expression.

"We've still got the deed," Trowa reminded him. "We can sell it in the next city. Until then, we'll get by." He went back to Quatre and took his hand.

Numbly, Quatre let Trowa lead him out.

* * *

Trowa didn't think there was anything he could say - or anything Quatre wanted to hear - to make things better, so he said nothing. There was no use talking about it; there was no one to blame as it was both equally their fault. Trowa's for not putting any money in reserve, and Quatre's for not being able to control his magic. And after a simple kiss had caused this whole mess, Trowa didn't think that a more physical kind of comfort would help the situation either. All they could do was wait the night out and see what tomorrow would bring.

In the morning the sky was overcast, reflecting their situation, but since there was no point in staying, they hit the road. Both of them were loathe to do so, but they were forced to beg for some breakfast and tossed out scraps to take with them on the road until they could find something better. Quatre found himself hoping they'd come across someone who was hurt or sick just so he could heal them for money or food, though not that he would wish that on somebody even out of necessity.

Unfortunately, though their trail took them past woods and fields, neither of them were very knowledgeable out the outdoors and which kinds of things were good to eat and which weren't. Having no weapon except Trowa's sword meant they were out of luck when it came to trying to hunt anything, either.

All in all, it was a very dismal time for them, especially when it did begin to rain. They had to keep going, walking off the road and beneath the trees for what little protection the leaves afforded. There was no stopping - the sooner they reached the next city and could sell the deed and have some money again, the better.

No one paid much mind to the two travelers, which was a mixed blessing. On one hand it meant that maybe no one would remember seeing them if things had gone even more wrong and someone had tipped the healers off about Quatre; on the other, it meant that no one stopped to offer them anything, be it a bite to eat or an extra umbrella or cloak.


	28. Chapter 28

Trowa dropped the purse on the table in front of Quatre. It made a nice, metallic jingle.

"It's gone."

"I'm sorry we had to do this, especially after all that..."

Trowa shook his head. " I think we should leave now," he said. "I felt like I was being followed."

Quatre's face fell. "Are you sure?"

"I didn't see anyone, but..." There wasn't any other way to explain such a feeling; it could be nothing, but he didn't think so.

"Can we at least eat something first?"

Trowa brought up the other sack he'd brought back with him and put it on the table. "I brought this." He opened it, and the most delicious scent of hot meat pies wafted forth.

"What would I do without you?" Quatre asked with a smile as Trowa brought them forth, one for each of them, and didn't answer the question - without him, neither of them would be in this terrible mess.

Forget eating second or away from the table; this feeling made Trowa nervous and there was no time to practice proper slave manners, not that Quatre noticed or minded. After living for over a week on what they could scrape together from other's leavings, leftovers, and kindness, the small pies disappeared quickly. Trowa gathered their knapsacks and put on his sword, and after thanking their gracious host and paying him a few coins for his troubles, they went out into the city.

"I think you're right. I think we _are_ being followed," Quatre said nervously after they'd been walking for a few minutes. He made to glance around, but before he could turn his head far, Trowa put a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

"Don't look. Act normal," Trowa advised him. Outside the city gates, there would be no place for whoever was following them to hide, and perhaps they would give up the pursuit.

"Do you think it's just a thief after the money, or..." He liked that option better than the one he left unsaid - that they were after _him_ - even if it meant they'd be penniless again.

"I don't know."

Quatre didn't like that answer, but of course Trowa didn't know who was following them or why. He wanted to walk faster, but Trowa kept his pace steady and he didn't want to leave him behind so he had to slow down as well. They stuck to the wider, busier main streets as much as they could, and headed directly for the gate opposite the one they'd entered the city through.

They both breathed a sigh of relief when they reached the gate without incident and left the city. The guard gave them barely a glance; there were many people traveling in and out of the city at that time of the morning. However, that meant the road was fairly busy as well and they might not yet be in the clear.

Once they had gotten about twenty yards from the gates, Trowa looked back to see if there was anyone suspicious coming their way.

He saw them, but he didn't want Quatre to worry so he didn't say anything and they kept walking.

"Do you know how far it is to the next town?" Quatre asked; the silence between them made him uncomfortable.

"About two hours," he answered. Two hours was a lot of time for something to happen, and the farther from the city they got the less people there would be on the road - everyone was heading in the opposite direction, toward the city.

They lapsed into silence again for a few minutes, until Quatre said, "Are we still being followed? It feels like it," and slowed his pace as if to turn around.

"Keep walking," Trowa urged him; and, as an afterthought, "there's three of them." He put his hand on Quatre's shoulder again to keep him moving forwards and stop him from looking back to see who their pursuers were.

"What should we do?" Quatre asked, scared.

"Let's stop up ahead for a rest," he suggested, and pointed to where there was a patch of trees off to the side of the road about half a mile away. "We won't let them surprise us."

"But if there's three, even if I-"

"I can handle it," Trowa assured him, and patted the hilt of his sword. "You've seen me fight."

"It's not..." Quatre was afraid to ask - was it the healers? But Trowa answered him anyway.

"It's a healer and two mercenaries."

"Maybe we can talk to them," Quatre offered, lamely, because he was sure there would be no excuse he could provide that they would believe.

Trowa didn't say anything for a short while, then: "If I have to, I'll kill them. The healer too. I won't let them hurt you."

Quatre bit his lip, and reached over to take Trowa's hand and hold it as they kept walking. "I hope you won't have to, but... I understand. I'd say I'd do the same for you, but I guess I'm pretty useless, aren't I?"

"No. You're not," Trowa replied, and squeezed Quatre's hand in reassurance.

* * *

"Guess what? It's your turn to follow me around now," Duo said with a smirk as he slid his fingers over Heero's jaw then bit him.

"Where have you been? Don't just disappear like that," Heero scolded him, even though he knew it would earn him a painful reprieve later.

"Here and there," Duo said with a shrug and walked past him over to the window. "I've found quite a tasty tidbit of information, so no more taking jobs for you until we're through."

"What is it?"

Duo turned to face him and put a finger to his lips and smiled. "You'll find out. If I'm right, this will be interesting - and if I'm not, well, it'll still be interesting... but maybe not as _fun_."

Heero shuddered at the emphasis; Duo's concept of 'fun' in this world was certainly not the same as Heero's.

"Hmm, no, I lied. I'm sure it will still be fun, just in a different way. It's not very often that something like this happens, you know."

"No, I don't know, because you won't tell me," Heero said to him, but all it earned him was another grin.

"Well, if you insist - but there's a price..." Duo trailed off as he sidled up to Heero and caressed his arm. Heero knew what that meant, and he tried not to think about it - no matter his answer, Duo was going to go ahead anyway.

"All right."

"Good boy," Duo said with a grin, and patted him on the head as though he were a dog. "So the news is, there's a rogue healer running around. Bet you don't know what my first thought was!"

"Quatre?" Heero hazarded as Duo pulled him over to the bed.

"I think that's pretty likely. And if it is, then he and Trowa are in deep shit."

"What if it's not them?"

"We'll capture them and take them to the shadow children's main court so they can be properly... _utilized_." He said it with a smile, but it was a darker smile than usual. Heero didn't think he wanted to know what that meant.

"And if it _is_?"

"Then strings will be pulled and I'll make sure they're left alone. I promise."


	29. Chapter 29

"You misunderstand - this is a _mercy_ killing." The healer spread his hands and gestured to the two mercenaries at his sides to move forward. "It's for your own good."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Quatre demanded as Trowa stepped in between him and them, hand on the hilt of his sword.

They were on the edge of a small wood, where Trowa had suggested they stop and rest to see what would happen. The healer had approached them openly and informed them of his intentions, and Quatre had done his best to explain and ask for forgiveness if such a thing was possible - but the healer had simply dismissed his pleas. It was to be death for Quatre, and 'the other' - Trowa - could do as he wished after that. Live, kill himself, or be killed; the healer did not care which option he picked, which is what angered Quatre more than anything else he said. The healers condemned suicide in any form, whether at a person's own hands or intentionally at the hands of others, so him saying such a thing only reinforced the correctness of Quatre's decision to leave.

"I should say it's for _his_ good," the healer said, pointing at Trowa. "The vows exist for a very good reason - to prevent others, such as him, from falling to harm. Only your blood can wash away your sins now, and absolve you from the pain which would otherwise have been inflicted on him."

"What 'pain'?" Quatre asked. "I would never hurt Trowa!"

"No, but those vile deathbringers would, and you would be at fault."

"What-"

"Do it," the healer said, addressing the two mercenaries, and stepped back.

One went for Trowa, to distract and restrain him, and the other for Quatre. Trowa didn't have time to draw his sword, but it wasn't necessary; as he'd told Quatre before he was better with his fists, and the mercenary wasn't expecting that kind of fight. He quickly laid him low with a few well-placed blows - enough to knock him out and gain a minute or two to deal with the one who was going after Quatre.

Quatre - who was doing his best to dodge and flee - was more concerned about the healer stepping in and using the same painful magic as he'd experienced during his punishment then he was about the blade meant for his flesh. He trusted that Trowa could take care of the two hired fighters, but neither of them could defend against the healer's magic.

Trowa had enough room and time to draw his sword before he reached Quatre, and he cut down the other man before he knew what had happened to him - and as he'd promised Quatre, he didn't stop there. He made sure that he would not be leaving the ground.

"All right?" Trowa asked.

Quatre looked away from the body and towards the healer, who was calmly watching the fight. "Yes, but -"

Trowa turned around to deal with the other mercenary, who was now getting back to his feet and coming towards them. This time Trowa lacked the element of surprise; he'd have to fight face-to-face.

"You are only sealing your own painful fate," the healer commented, addressing Trowa. "If you step away from this, you will not have to suffer."

Trowa declined to rise to the healer's bait and say anything, and instead concentrated on making sure he stayed between Quatre and the mercenary's sword. It didn't matter if he got hurt, because Quatre could heal him, but he didn't know how a healer's magic worked on themselves and he didn't want Quatre to have to get hurt anyway.

"It doesn't matter if you kill him as well," the healer told the remaining mercenary.

Quatre wished there was something, _anything_ he could do to help Trowa or fight back. It was the healer who really angered him, his casual attitude towards murder. He hadn't even batted an eye when Trowa had delivered the killing blow. Even if he didn't want to use it for such a thing, Quatre wished his magic was powerful enough or that he knew how to direct it as the healer who'd meted out his punishment before had done.

Trowa's skill with the sword was nowhere near that of the mercenary's, but he was fighting for both his life and Quatre's. The mercenary, who was only there for the money, was not keen on losing his own life either but had less at stake. After several furious minutes, Trowa prevailed.

But it wasn't over.

As Trowa stopped to catch his breath, Quatre screamed. He whirled around to see who the attacker was; Quatre was on the ground, writhing in pain from an invisible assault. In a second he realized the culprit and, with fury in his eyes, turned and ran towards the healer.

Quatre's screams did not stop until the healer's robes were stained bright red with blood. Once he was sure the healer was silenced for good, Trowa wasted no time in returning to Quatre. He knelt down on the grass and cast his bloody sword aside.

Quatre was curled up in the fetal position, his face white and eyes shut tight while he panted and gasped for air. Trowa touched his face and said his name, and Quatre opened his eyes. "Quatre?" he said again, then, after looking up and around, "It's all right. Stay right here and rest for a bit."

He didn't know how badly Quatre was hurt, or if it was even something physical, but there was not really anything he could do besides try and clean up to buy them some time. Trowa dragged away the body of the healer first; what parts of his robe that weren't stained with blood would be the most visible from a distance. The two mercenaries were next. He dragged them all into the trees, and then used one of their swords to hack down a couple tree branches to cover the bodies with before going back to Quatre. His own sword he wiped off in the grass and put back in its sheath, and then - because Quatre didn't look like he was going to be able to get up - Trowa carefully gathered him up in his arms and headed off.

* * *

"Looks like we're a little _late_," Duo commented as he had Heero pull the branches off the three bodies so he could take a look.

"Two hirelings, and..."

"And a _healer_," Duo finished with a grin. Even though his white robes were now saturated red with blood, even Heero could tell it was true. "Yup, they've been through here." He squatted down by the bodies and poked at them. "They're fresh. Only a couple hours old."

"Are we going to go after them?" Heero asked. Duo stood up and turned to him.

"_You_ are going to go after them. If I point you in the right direction it shouldn't be too hard for you to go find them, right?"

"I'm okay at tracking, but... what are you going to do?"

Duo's grin widened. "I'm going to _clean up_." Heero shivered; whatever Duo meant by that, he was up to no good. "You go ahead and find them, and I'll catch up when I'm done here. I don't think they've gone too far."

"What if it's not them?"

Duo shook his head. "No, I'm pretty certain now that it is. Whoever killed these guys was a man, not a woman. Women kill differently. And it wasn't a healer with a sword, either - it was somebody with basic training. The only healer I've ever heard of running off with another guy would have to be Quatre."

"Then the sooner I get going, the faster," Heero said with a serious expression.

"That way," Duo pointed. "Northwest, over those hills. There's only one set of tracks that I can see, which means one of them - Trowa, probably - was carrying the other."

"If Quatre's hurt, then..."

"Just go. Don't worry about it. If there's nothing you can do for him, then wait until I get there," Duo advised. "I'll try not to be too far behind."

With a nod, Heero started off, and Duo got to work.

* * *

It wasn't that this kind of work was fun, because getting bloody playing with dead bodies was not exactly the greatest thing in the world, but it was the thought of the reward which kept that grin on Duo's face as he worked. Naturally the shadow children and healers were each other's worst enemies; each was the antithesis of the other. Black and white, good and evil, life and death. It was a silent war which had been waged for centuries. However, even the shadow children respected the laws of immunity which protected the healers... for the most part. And if it wasn't their work, any shadow child would gladly step in and take the credit for a healer's death. It was a fair exchange for protecting the real killer from the wrath of the law.

It was with this in mind that Duo went about making it seem like _he_ had been the one to kill the healer and the two mercenaries. The two of them were throwaways; he dragged them back to where they had fallen and arranged them and did nothing more. No one but another shadow child would be able to tell that the wounds had been inflicted by an unskilled sword. The healer's appearance was what mattered the most. Among the shadow children it was a mark of pride to be able to make someone's hack work resemble their own style, in order to claim the credit. It inspired fear in the masses and made it seem like there were more of them, and that anyone could be a target.

Duo took care of the more obvious and visible parts first. He made sure that every thread of the healer's once-pristine robes were dyed dark red with blood, and also that there was not a speck of blood left on the uncovered parts of his body - his head and his face. This appearance, though contrived, was one that spoke of style and finesse. Next, he used his own brand of magic to seal and hide the wounds. Dead flesh was more easily manipulated than a living body, so this was an easy task. The point was to leave no visible indication of the manner of death.

Finally, he posed the healer's body, creating a five-pointed star - arm straight out to the sides, legs spread - as he'd done when making Heero his host. Leaving a body arranged in this manner was an unmistakable mark of the shadow children, one reserved for their most high-profile assassinations. He also left his own personal mark branded into the healer's robes and skin on his chest, large and unmistakable. Usually this was a small mark which they would leave on the roof of the victim's mouth just behind the front teeth - or other specific locations on the body if the head was missing or damaged - and was only meant for other shadow children to find and see. For this kind of work, though, making it so large and visible was a satisfying 'fuck you!' as the last word.

When he was satisfied with his work and had cleaned up the traces of fighting and where the bodies had first been dragged off to, Duo left to go catch up with Heero.


	30. Chapter 30

It was slow going for Trowa, who had stop and rest every so often because he was carrying Quatre, but he was determined to at least get out of sight from anyone on the road. He understood that there was nothing he could do for Quatre at this point except get them away from there and to a safe place so that they could rest and, hopefully, recover. He'd suffered a few cuts from the mercenary's sword, but nothing severe enough to make him waste time bandaging them before getting out of there. It could wait until they were over the next hill and safely hidden from view, and then they could worry about what to do next.

Quatre clung to him, his face buried in Trowa's shoulder, but Trowa wasn't sure if it was because of the pain, or the shock of what had just happened, or both. He was still a little shocked, himself; he'd never killed anyone before in this world, at least not intentionally. And this was different - this was not war. This had consequences. He did not want to think about those consequences right now.

At last they reached the base of the opposite side of the hill. Trowa found a secluded spot between some trees and tried to make Quatre as comfortable as possible while he rested himself and thought about what they could do or where they could go - which was nothing and nowhere. Tsoth didn't allow healers to cross its borders, because of their ban on magic, but that meant Quatre wouldn't be allowed either. Short of finding some secluded spot and never returning to civilization, Trowa couldn't think of any way out of this mess.

"How are you feeling?" Trowa asked after he'd laid Quatre down on the ground and tried to make him as comfortable as possible, giving him the softer of their two packs for a pillow. "Better?"

"Not really," Quatre replied as Trowa stroked his cheek, and he closed his eyes.

"We should be safe here for the moment, so rest," he told Quatre, who nodded.

"What about you?"

Trowa looked at his arm. "I'm fine. They're just scratches. Don't worry about it - heal yourself instead."

"One thing my magic _can't_ do," Quatre said with a sigh, and curled up.

"Rest," Trowa told him again. "I'll keep watch."

Quatre closed his eyes and did as he was told, while Trowa kept thinking while his eyes scanned the surrounding area for any sign of pursuit. It had taken them about three hours to come this far, just over the hill, since Trowa had been carrying Quatre; that was plenty of time for someone to have noticed the bodies or that something was amiss when the healer or the mercenaries didn't return.

They been sitting there for about twenty minutes; Quatre seemed to have fallen asleep, or at least he looked a bit more relaxed and in less pain. Trowa saw movement up on the crest of the hill they'd come over. He watched the figure come over the top and begin to descend for a minute or two while his panicked mind tried to decide whether he should wake Quatre and to tell him someone was coming and whether or not they should stay put or try to run.

In the interest of not making Quatre worry more, especially in his current condition, Trowa let him sleep and stayed put, watching carefully. It was only one person, after all; if needed, Trowa could take him down and then flee in case there were others searching in different directions.

He came down the hill in a straight line, following their tracks, so Trowa knew he was going to find them one way or another. Trowa lost sight of him a few times when he came down into the trees, and carefully, slowly, he drew his sword and stood up. He stayed behind a tree, out of sight, while he waited for them to approach and hoped he could surprise them before they surprised him.

On the ground, Quatre stirred, and Trowa glanced over at him for just a moment. When he looked back, the figure was gone, lost in the trees. He desperately scanned the area for any sign of movement, but whomever their pursuer was, they knew how to stay hidden on the approach. It was possible he'd even been seen himself by now, since he had been watching them descend the hill for several tens of minutes.

For the next several minutes Trowa watched and waited, but saw nothing - until they were there, right in front of him. He raised his sword to attack, but then in a moment of confusion, recognized their pursuer.

"Heero!"

"Hey. Are you guys all right?"

Trowa lowered his sword in relief, and Heero put down his hands. "I am, but..." Trowa looked down at Quatre, who had not woken. He lowered his voice and took a few steps to the side, so as not to disturb him. "I'm glad it's you."

Heero nodded. "Same here, but we were pretty sure it was you two, so we came."

"You're traveling with Duo. Where is he?"

Heero looked slightly uncomfortable. "He's coming. He sent me ahead while he... cleaned up. I'm not sure what he meant by that, though, and I'm not sure how long it will take."

Trowa nodded as he sheathed his sword, and Heero looked over at Quatre.

"How is he? What happened?"

"I'm not sure. The healer did something to him."

"Hopefully, Duo will be able to do something for him when he gets here, so I guess we'll just have to wait," he said as he took a seat in the grass and leaned up against a tree. Trowa hesitated, looking around, then did the same. He still wasn't certain they were free from pursuit, even if Heero was with them now and Duo was presumably doing a better job of getting rid of the evidence than he had.

"You're not very used to that sword, are you?" Heero asked conversationally; it was something he'd noticed himself, even though Duo had said as much when he'd examined the bodies.

Trowa took his hand off the hilt where he'd been resting it, nervous. "Quatre had me buy it. I didn't think I'd have to use it."

Heero nodded. "Well, it seems it's a fine mess you've gotten yourselves into, isn't it? What happened, anyway? From the top, I mean, when you two met. We've probably got time."

Trowa sighed and looked down at the ground. "Our paths crossed in the desert. Quatre bought my freedom; I refused it, and it caused him trouble. I was forced to accept a deed of freedom. We left. We ran out of money. Quatre didn't want to sell the deed so I asked him to let me fight in the slave arenas. We bet everything, but lost it all when Quatre healed me and the match was forfeit. We fled. This morning we sold the deed and left the city, and..." he shook his head. "I don't understand what happened, and I don't think Quatre does either."

"Neither do I," Heero said, tapping his fingers on his chin, "but I think Duo does, so hopefully he can explain when he gets here." He changed the subject, not wanting to say anything else about Duo or have Trowa start asking questions about him. "So you're... Quatre's slave, then? Explains why everything's so screwed up, considering."

"I wouldn't have been so stubborn if I'd have known what would happen."

"But the damage is done," Heero finished. "No use worrying about it now. Duo promised me he'd find some way to help you guys, and I trust him," he said with a straight face, and pushed up his sleeve to scratch his arm, something which did not go unnoticed by Trowa.

Heero saw where he was looking and quickly pulled his sleeve back down to hide the scars which crisscrossed his skin. "Duo," he explained brusquely. He was prepared for questions, but if Trowa had any he kept them to himself.

The awkward silence that followed was soon interrupted by Quatre waking up. Trowa stood up and went quickly to his side; Heero stayed put.

"Did we wake you?" he asked.

"We...?" Quatre asked, confused, and lifted his head to look past Trowa. Heero waved.

"Heero's here. Duo's coming. We'll be all right," Trowa promised him.

"That's good," he said with a sigh, and put his head back down.

"Go back to sleep," Trowa suggested as he combed his fingers through Quatre's hair and brushed it back from his face.

Quatre gave him a small smile, and closed his eyes again without answering the first question.


	31. Chapter 31

Heero knew when Duo had arrived. It was something he could feel, even if he couldn't _see_ Duo anywhere. Instead of saying anything, he pretended like he hadn't noticed and kept chatting with Trowa. The conversation was mostly one-sided; in this world he was a fairly talkative person when the mood was right, while Trowa seemed even quieter and more concise with his words.

They talked about nothing in particular. Heero told him about how they had met Zechs/Milliardo in this world and how he'd been running around with Duo, all the while still deliberately neglecting to mention that Duo was a shadow child. It wasn't Trowa's reaction he was worried about - it was Quatre's. He didn't know if Quatre was really asleep, or if he was listening to them talk. Either way, he knew that healers had a very negative view of the shadow children, and just because Quatre had turned his back on the healers didn't mean he'd suddenly accept Duo without question. Heero already knew that Duo was concerned about how this would affect his and Quatre's friendship in the other world, though he hadn't told Heero what he was going to do about it.

Perhaps fifteen minutes after Heero had sensed Duo's arrival, he felt the familiar, disturbing sensation of Duo sinking back into his shadow - just as Quatre woke up again, which distracted Trowa from seeing Heero's skin prickle with goose bumps.

Quatre looked around in confusion for a moment, as though there was something which had escaped him, and then he sat up and put his hand to his chest.

"Suddenly... it doesn't hurt any more," he said, and looked at Trowa with a puzzled expression.

"_Good, it worked_," Duo whispered in his ear. Sensing Heero's unspoken question, he added, "_I didn't give him anything, just used my magic. It's a lot harder to heal the living than the dead_," he mused. "_But what can harms can heal, I guess, and what can heal obviously hurt him a lot._"

"Good," Trowa said with a relieved smile as moved over again to sit down next to Quatre.

Quatre smiled back at him, then turned to Heero. "Where's Duo? You two were traveling together, right?" He seemed to have forgotten that Trowa had said Duo was on his way.

Heero nodded. "He's already here."

Both Trowa and Quatre looked around, but saw nothing.

"Where...?" Quatre asked, and Heero pointed to the ground next to him - to his shadow. It twisted on the grass, and Quatre instinctively clutched at Trowa, who returned the gesture in mutual fear as the black-clothed form pulled itself up out of Heero's shadow and crouched on the ground next to him.

Whereas Trowa was all fear, Quatre's expression was more loathing and anger than terror.

"Oh, get over yourself," Duo said conversationally as he drew aside his veil and revealed his face. "All things considered, you can probably trust me more than you can any of those misguided healers."

Trowa relaxed a bit, but Quatre did not.

"Look, we're still all friends here, okay?" Heero said, trying to dispel the tension a little. "Well, I mean, you don't have to be friends here if you don't want, but we're still here to help, not make things worse."

"Besides," Duo said with a sly smile, "I've got the answers to your questions, so you're going to have to put up with me if you want to know what's going on."

"How could _you_ possibly know anything about this? It's a healer's matter," Quatre accused him.

Duo shrugged. "Well, for a _healer_, you don't seem to know much about what's going on, do you? If you did, you'd know exactly how much you've fucked yourself and Trowa over and why they were trying to kill you, wouldn't you?" He gave Trowa a long once-over that made the green-eyed slave extremely uncomfortable, and smiled. "It looks like you're lucky, though."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Quatre asked, bristling.

Duo pointed at Trowa, then crooked his finger and beckoned. "Come here." Quatre clung tightly to Trowa, but for all his fear, he knew that listening to Duo was their best - and probably their only - bet. He let go of Quatre, who protested, and stood up and took a couple of steps towards Duo and Heero.

"Let me see your right arm," Duo said as he stood up slowly. Trowa hesitated, then held it out towards him. When Duo stepped forward and grasped his wrist Trowa flinched and Quatre stood up quickly, but all Duo did was pick off one of the makeshift bandages from the cuts Trowa had received from the mercenary's sword and examined it before letting Trowa go so he could step back to Quatre. Quatre took Trowa's arm for himself, and with a deliberate glare at Duo, healed the wounds in a moment and took off the rest of the bandages.

"_That's_ why you're lucky," Duo said, sitting back down next to Heero. "It's not to late to prevent the otherwise inevitable, and I can guarantee your safety - as long as you listen to and follow my instructions."

"I'm not doing anything until you tell us what's going on. If you've got answers, then spit them out," Quatre told him as he and Trowa sat back down as well.

"That's what I like to hear," Duo said with a small chuckle. "I'll start from the top. Ever wonder _why_ healers aren't allowed to have sex or fall in love?" When Quatre didn't answer, he grinned. "It's because sex fucks with your kind of magic. Literally. Every time you and Trowa fuck, a bit of your magic is siphoned off into him. Put too much into him, and he'll become practically invincible. And do you know what happens to healer's lovers? They make the _perfect_ living dummies for training new shadow children."

Quatre glared daggers at Duo and Trowa clung to him tighter, the fear returning. Even Heero shivered a little to learn what Duo had meant by his earlier remark of "utilizing" them if it turned out not to be Quatre and Trowa. He was glad now that it had been them, because it gave them a chance.

"That's why the healer was trying to kill you. Get rid of you - your magic - and it would leave Trowa. It takes a pair to make it work," Duo smirked. "But, as I said, you're lucky. Just one fuck isn't enough. It takes about five or six before the magic really starts build up to levels that would keep him alive no matter what we threw at him. So I hate to burst your love-bubble, but if you want to stay safe, _no more sex_."

"Ouch," Heero muttered under his breath, meaning that he understood their pain, but Duo made it real with his nails on the back of Heero's neck.

"I guess that makes sense," Quatre begrudged him, but still held on tightly to Trowa as if he thought Duo would still try to pull them apart.

"Glad you understand. Now let's get out of here," Duo said as he sank back down into Heero's shadow and disappeared. Heero stood up.

"You guys are probably tired out, right? Do you want to go back to the city or keep traveling? I'm not sure where we're headed - still need to figure that part out, and find a place where you can stay safely," Heero said as they picked up their packs. Trowa acted like nothing had happened after Duo disappeared, but Quatre seemed distrustful of Heero as well now.

"We can't go back to the city. They'll just come after us again," he protested, and took Trowa's hand.

"No they won't. Duo says that by now they know he was there, and that they'll give up now that they think your in his hands," Heero relayed to them. "So do you want to keep going or go back? It doesn't matter to me which we do."

"We keep going," Quatre said stubbornly.

Heero shrugged and turned away from them. "If we go this way, I think there's another road that goes north from the next town that we can pick up." He started walking in that direction without bothering to see if they were following him; it wasn't as if they had a choice, unless they wanted to be found by a different shadow child who didn't have any problems with making their lives hell.


	32. Chapter 32

Words weren't necessary. Trowa knew what Quatre needed, and he gave it to him when they woke up in the opposite world the next morning. There, at least, it couldn't do any harm.

"Don't be too hard on Duo, okay? He's only trying to help," Trowa told him afterwards.

"I know, but..." Quatre said, and snuggled close to Trowa's chest as Trowa stroked his hair; he wasn't ready to get out of bed yet. "I mean, he could have at least _said_ something beforehand so it wasn't so much of a shock, or even told us _here_ before we got into trouble _there_," he grumbled.

"It doesn't matter now. Just remember that's there, not here. You're still friends."

"I know."

* * *

Duo tread lightly around Quatre; breakfast was a tense affair without his usual banter, and even Wufei seemed to notice that something was wrong although he didn't ask. Quatre, too, seemed reluctant to do anything about it, though Trowa and Heero both acted like nothing was amiss. After they finished eating, Quatre made to clear the table but Trowa nudged him aside and took over with a few quiet words. This was how, after a few indecisive minutes, Duo and Quatre ended up in the living room together, each trying to come up with something to say to break the awkward silence.

Predictably, Duo said something first. "So... um... are you mad at me, Quat?"

"Maybe," Quatre replied grudgingly.

"Look, I didn't mean to surprise you guys like that, but I was just worried that something might happen, or someone else would get to you first... I mean I can kinda understand if you hate me, it comes with the job so I'm used to it, but... I was just trying to help."

"I know. It's... okay."

"I mean, I don't expect you to suddenly be best buds with me there; I know how healers - hell, most people - see my kind. I guess... I just don't want that to hurt our friendship here, you know?"

Quatre nodded and looked slightly guilty. "I know. Me either."

"Still friends?" Duo asked.

"Still friends."

"Hug?"

Quatre smiled, and let Duo hug him as Trowa and Heero joined them in the living room. Duo motioned them over. "C'mon. Group hug!" he said with a grin, and Trowa pulled Heero over to join in.

"What about Wufei?" Quatre asked from the middle of the pile, before they broke up to retire to the couch.

"Whatever, he's a sourpuss anyway," Duo said. "But... actually, Trowa, I might need you to talk to him for me," he frowned, changing the conversation and getting serious.

"What about?"

"Well, you two are going to need a safe place to stay, and Heero and I don't exactly know anyone who could take you in. Maybe Wufei knows somebody who could, but if I tried to ask him he'd just get pissy and start bitching about not mixing worlds again," Duo explained, "but he listens to you."

Trowa nodded. "I can ask. What should I tell him?"

"Ideally, a high-ranking or high-profile noble or a sorcerer would be the best person for you guys to stay with, because they're the easiest to bribe with what I can offer for your safety: a get out of an assassination free pass. Pass go, collect an extra lease on living, you know," Duo said with a grin.

"Are you sure we'll be all right? They... the healers aren't going to come after us again, are they?"

Duo shook his head. "Don't worry. I made sure they got the message that a shadow child already had you. They won't move against us openly, so instead they'll just chalk it up as a loss, and pray for your souls or whatever the fuck it is they do. And as long as you don't have sex there, you should be safe from any other shadow children as well. All I can really do for you is pay for a place for you to stay, if we can find one. The rest is up to you."

"Thanks," Quatre acknowledged. "I'm sorry if I was kinda... hostile there, but you know... I was just really stressed out and it was a big shock."

"Like I said, it's okay. I totally understand. Heero wasn't exactly thrilled when he met me for the first time there either... but he got over it okay," Duo replied with a grin, and patted Heero on the shoulder.

"Who said I was over it? You still scare me," Heero told him, and Duo laughed.

"Okay, you're just _used_ to it."

"It's not like I have a choice," Heero grumbled, but Duo ignored his comment.

"So? Will you ask Wufei about that?"

"He'll probably refuse, but I can try," Trowa promised.

* * *

"What's going on with Duo and Quatre?" Wufei asked as Trowa knocked and entered his room. He shut the door behind him.

"Nothing. It's fine now," Trowa replied, and took a seat on Wufei's bed.

"And? What's up?"

"I need a favor."

Wufei sighed and turned around to face him. "What _kind_ of favor?"

"You say that like you don't owe me anything," Trowa replied with a smile. Wufei resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Quatre and I are in a tough spot in the other world, and -"

"No," Wufei said promptly, cutting him off. "I'm not helping you over there. No mixing."

"I didn't ask you to do it yourself," Trowa pointed out. "Will you let me finish?" When Wufei responded with silence, he continued anyway. "We need a place to stay. I'm not asking you to take us in," he added quickly before Wufei could protest again, "I'm just asking if you _know_ anyone who could. Duo said that a noble or a sorcerer was preferable, and the payment is, as he put it, a 'get out of an assassination free pass' from the shadow children."

"Where the fuck did you get one of those?" Wufei asked, then, "I don't really know anyone."

"Duo's giving it to us. Are you sure there's nobody? Even a friend of a friend?"

"I... I guess I could ask the friend I'm living with," Wufei said with a frown, not really liking the idea of asking Treize. He wasn't even sure if he meant it. It might be better just to not ask and come back with a "sorry, you're S.O.L."

"Thanks," Trowa said. "The sooner we find someone, the better... Duo said healers won't come after us now, but there's still other things to worry about."

"Duo said... you mean there? You guys met up?" Wufei gave him a disapproving look.

"Yes." Trowa left at that, and Wufei didn't ask any more questions.


	33. Chapter 33

Wufei put off asking Treize all day, until it was late that evening after dinner and, if he was going to have an answer for Trowa, couldn't put it off any longer. He didn't want to ask, but it was the least he could do. After all, he _did_ owe Trowa a couple of favors, and a straight, honest answer was the least he could provide in return.

They usually retired to the library after dinner to unwind, and that night was no exception. Wufei briefly wondered why it was that all their important - and difficult - conversations seemed to take place there, but it _was_ a place where they spent a lot of time.

"Something's bothering you," Treize said. It was carefully sculpted to seem like an offhand comment, not a statement. Wufei just wished he wasn't so transparent to his lover. "Go on."

"I promised Trowa I'd do him a favor and ask you..." Wufei said with a sigh, and frowned.

"And...? Ask me what?"

"Apparently he and Quatre need someplace to stay - and no, they are _not_ staying here!" he added, before Treize could suggest otherwise. "He just wanted me to ask you if you had any friends who could take them in."

"For free? And for how long?"

"I don't know how long. Quite a while, probably. And no... not for free." He balked, not wanting to say more in case it put any ideas into Treize's head, but his attempt was foiled.

"For what, then? And I don't see why they couldn't stay here," Treize replied with a smile - now that their relationship was a little more stable he liked provoking Wufei, making him uncomfortable. It kept things interesting.

"Because I said so," Wufei grumbled. "And they're offering a... a pass on an assassination from a shadow child."

Treize was very, very interested now, and Wufei mentally cursed himself because he already knew where this was heading.

"Wufei... do you know how much something like that is _worth_? I mean, not just for assurance on your life - which is worth a lot, especially to people like us who generate a lot of enemies - but even money-wise, if we sold it to someone who knew they were being targeted? Something like that is _not_ something you pass up a chance to get your hands on. I won't even ask where they came up with that, but -"

"I said no," Wufei told him stubbornly. "I'm sure you know people who would like that, don't you? Somebody far away. Another country would be nice."

"Now you're just being contrary," Treize said with a smile. "There's no real reason they can't come here. Wouldn't it be better to stay with friends, anyway? We've got plenty of room."

"No."

"If it's because I'm here, I don't think you should worry about that. I'm certain they know how much you're against 'mixing' the two worlds, and that you wouldn't do anything over there to put them in danger or betray them. There isn't any reason for them to think that. Your reasons for being here are completely understandable. They don't even have to know we're a couple."

"No."

"Wufei..." He reached over to caress the side of Wufei's neck with a finger.

"No!"

"Are you _sure_ about that?" He slid his hand around the back of Wufei's neck and pulled him closer.

"No..." Wufei whimpered

"No, you're not sure?" Treize asked with a chuckle, his breath tickling Wufei's ear. "Does that mean I'm changing your mind?"

"Damnit..."

"Then you can go ahead and tell them they can come stay with us. It will be fine," he promised as he began to nibble on Wufei's earlobe.

Wufei replied with a moan.

* * *

He was not happy about the decision, but Treize insisted so he was forced to go along. The next day he called Trowa - and Quatre - up to his room to tell them his answer.

"Did you find a place for us?" Trowa asked as they sat down on Wufei's bed to hear what he had to say.

"My friend says," Wufei responded with a troubled sigh, "that you can come stay with us. _However_," he went on, "there are some conditions you will have to agree to."

"As long as they're reasonable," Trowa said.

"First, both of you have to promise that you will _never_ speak a word about any of this to Duo. By 'this,' I mean where I live and who I'm living with. Second, he's obviously not to come with you there, either."

Quatre thought about saying something, but Trowa put his hand on Quatre's knee to stop him. "That's fine. I don't have a problem with that."

"Me either," Quatre said.

"You swear to keep this a secret?"

They both nodded.

"All right. Come to Dharthing then, in Amoria, and when you get there I'll let you know the exact address."

"Aren't we pretty close to there?" Quatre asked Trowa, who nodded.

"I think so. Maybe just a couple hundred miles, about a week and a half on foot... but I guess we have enough for a carriage, if you want to take one."

"I am pretty tired of walking - and running," Quatre said with a rueful smile.

"Fine, whatever. Just let me know when you get to the city," Wufei interrupted them. "And don't tell Duo _anything_."

* * *

Over breakfast the next day, taken in their room at the small inn where they'd stayed the night, Trowa summed up the general gist of their conversation and promises to Heero and Duo

"But he didn't say anything about me?" Heero asked, and took another piece of bread off the tray.

"He didn't mention you at all," Quatre said and shook his head. "I almost said something, but..."

"Well, if he didn't say anything, that means he doesn't have a problem if Heero comes with you, right? Besides, you two should have some protection just in case. Of course I'll tag along. If he doesn't see me it's as if I'm not there. And I'm good at being 'not there'," Duo said with a grin. "You don't have to tell anything to me - you can tell Heero instead."

Heero nodded. "Sounds about right. Wufei needs to stop being so _weird_ about this whole thing, anyway," he said, and chewed thoughtfully for a while. "So, where are we headed?"

"The city of Dharthing," Quatre replied. "If it's all right, I'd like to take a carriage - I mean, we'll pay for ourselves, it's just that..."

"Don't worry about it," Duo said with a wave. "Everything's on me. Save what you've got in case you need it later."

"You really don't..."

"I _insist_," Duo replied, baring his teeth in a smile. Quatre shut up and looked uncomfortable. "Or, if you prefer, everything's on Heero."

"Fine, whatever," Heero agreed. "Let's not fight about it. The sooner we get you guys some place safe, the better."

"I have to ask, though, because I'm curious... did he say whether this friend of his was a noble or a sorcerer, or something else?" Duo inquired.

Trowa shook his head and replied, "He didn't say."

"He didn't seem very happy about letting us stay with him, though," Quatre added helpfully.

Duo chuckled. "Of course not. This 'friend' of his must be a very persuasive person, I suppose. And I'm even _more_ curious as to why he doesn't want me finding out who they are." The dangerous glint in his eye told Heero that Wufei was going to end up seriously pissed, although that had pretty much been a given from the start.


	34. Chapter 34

Even though he knew Duo was still _there_, hiding in Heero's shadow, Quatre felt better when he couldn't see him. Out of sight, out of mind. The journey by coach was relaxed, now that they were in no particular hurry, and Quatre and Heero passed the time in conversation while Trowa listened and occasionally joined in.

In such close quarters, it wasn't long before Quatre noticed Heero's scars. Unlike Trowa, who had not asked about them, Quatre could not let something like that go unquestioned.

"Would you like me to take care of those?" Quatre offered, simply because that was what he did; he didn't think to ask Heero where they came from first. Heero - who had, again, been rubbing at them unconsciously but this time didn't notice Quatre was watching - was startled by the question.

"No," he answered sharply, then added, "It's all right. They're mostly healed up already."

"What happened?"

Unlike how he had so quickly answered the question Trowa never asked, Heero hesitated. To tell Trowa something like that was fine; Quatre was another matter entirely, but he was bound to realize eventually so Heero told him. "They're from Duo."

Quatre's face turned to exactly the expression he did not want to see: pity, and confusion.

"Why would you let him do that to you?"

Heero shrugged it off. "I don't mind it." It was mostly truth - no, he didn't mind it, but that still didn't mean he'd gotten comfortable with it, or with Duo. There was always that element of fear lurking at the foundation of their relationship, even though he knew Duo would never go far enough to seriously wound or kill him. Nor was their relationship in the other world absolutely perfect, but at least it didn't include the elements of pain and fear and their unusual symbiosis. Quatre wouldn't - no, _couldn't_ - understand, but Heero didn't expect him to.

"But... why?" Quatre couldn't accept that answer.

"Because," Heero replied with another shrug. "If I didn't want it, I would have left when I had the chance, after Duo and I first met here."

"_Would you have?_" Duo asked him. Heero didn't truly know the answer, but suspected it was probably 'no'.

"I just don't understand why you'd _choose_ something like that," Quatre said, upset.

"You don't have to understand - it was my choice, not yours. So don't worry about it," Heero assured him. "Are you happy with the choice _you_ made?"

Quatre, taken aback by his question, glanced over at Trowa. "I... yes." He smiled, and reached over to take Trowa's hand. "You're right. I wouldn't expect anyone else to understand why I chose what I did to end up in this mess. It's really the same thing in the end, isn't it?"

* * *

Three and a half days later, they arrived in the bustling city of Dharthing. Since Heero had agreed to pay, they let him pick the inn where they'd stay that night. Though it was still only mid-afternoon they settled into their rooms. There would be plenty of time later to explore the city, if it was going to be their new home.

"I was here a couple months ago," Duo said, tapping his fingers on the windowsill as he looked out at the city. "Now I wonder if Wufei was here then and we missed each other." He turned to look at Heero and smiled.

"What are you going to do?"

"I don't know yet. I guess I'll just tag along tomorrow without letting him know I'm there, and see what happens."

"What about Quatre and Trowa?"

"What about them?" Duo asked.

"I mean... is it safe to leave them here? Are you sure they'll be safe from both the healers and other shadow children?"

Duo shrugged. "It's up to them, I guess. Although... I recall that there are quite a few sorcerers in this city. If it turns out that Wufei's friend is one of them, then they can take care of it; if not, I can always pay one of them for some protection - if you're that worried. But I don't think there will be any problems. The healers got the message and won't try to reclaim either of them, and they're useless to us until Quatre's passed on enough of his magic to Trowa - which won't happen if they can keep their hands off each other. Maybe I can get a sorcerer to give them a spell for _that_," Duo said with a laugh.

"Are we going to stick around here for a while?" Heero asked, changing the subject.

"Depends. Do you want to take another job, or do you want to follow me around for a while?"

"If you've got jobs to do..." Heero trailed off as Duo grinned.

"Let's just see what happens tomorrow."

* * *

Treize thought he felt something poking at the protective barrier around the house, but it was such a tiny feeling that he immediately forgot about it when his housekeeper bustled into the room and told him that there were three young men standing at the gate and she didn't know what to do because he'd told her he was only expecting two.

He smiled and, without getting Wufei, went out to meet them.

Treize was not surprised to see that the third person was Heero - Wufei had mentioned in passing that Duo was _not_ invited - though it was clear all three of them were surprised to see him.

"Please, come in," he said as he opened the gate for them and invited them inside.

"But... you're..." Quatre began.

"It's complicated; I'll let Wufei explain," Treize told them. "Though I'm sure you can see why he was so reluctant to volunteer to shelter you - I had to do quite a bit of persuading. The payment he told me you'd be providing was... too much for me to pass up." He smiled, and gestured for them to follow him up the short path through the house. He felt something, again, as they passed through the gate - something coming through the barrier. Wufei had told him Quatre was a healer, so he assumed that was the magic he felt.

Quatre and Trowa stuck close to each other; Heero seemed fairly unfazed by Treize's sudden appearance and introduction - though, unbeknownst to anyone else, Duo was howling with laughter in his ears.

Wufei met them almost inside the door and, after giving Treize a dirty look for not getting him before coming to the door - Treize smiled back - he noticed Heero standing behind the two he'd invited and went off.

"What are _you_ doing here?" he demanded.

Heero shrugged. "You never said I couldn't come with them."

Wufei scowled, but it was the truth and he couldn't do anything about it now that the damage was done. "Then you have to promise that you will never, _ever_ tell Duo about this. _Any_ of you," he added, though Trowa and Quatre had already agreed.

Heero shrugged. "I won't." He didn't have to lie; if Duo already knew, there was no point in telling him.

"Let's not stand around in the hall," Treize interrupted. "To the drawing room." He led them down the hallway and into the room. Once everyone was seated - save for Wufei, who stood pacing nervously until Treize chided him about it and he sat - the housekeeper came back with a tray of tea and snacks and laid them on the table before disappearing again.

"Help yourselves," Treize suggested, and helped himself while no one else reached for anything. After taking a bite and noticing that no one was doing or saying anything, he motioned to Wufei. "Go ahead, then."

Wufei took a deep breath. "First, I just want you to know that there is _absolutely nothing_ between Treize and I in the other world, except what was already there before this stupid thing started," he said. "I kept telling you and telling you that I didn't want to mix up my lives in one world with the other, and now you obviously know _why_. Just because I owe him a lot in this world doesn't mean I owe him anything in the other. I want to make _absolutely clear_ to you that I still have _nothing_ to do with him there. And if you are going to stay here, the rule in this house is that _we do not discuss the other world_! If you want to talk to each other about it, that's fine, but I don't want to hear it - here or there."

Treize found Wufei's attitude about the whole thing quite amusing, though he couldn't say anything or Wufei would get angry with him about it. At a time like this, making him upset would only make things worse for everyone, so he restrained himself and kept it toned down.

"It's just as he says," Treize assured them. "Our relationships here and there are completely opposite of each other." If one of the three got the meaning he implied, they didn't show it. "Now, I'm interested in that payment Wufei mentioned..."

"_Gets right to the point, doesn't he? Go ahead and give it to him_."

Heero reached into his pocket and expertly flipped the coin up in to the air towards Treize, who caught it in his palm and examined it closely. "So this is what they look like. I've always wondered," Treize said as he turned the surprisingly light silver coin over in his fingers. "And this is guaranteed? Can I only use it once, or...?"

"Just once," Heero answered. "They'll take that as counter-payment instead."

"Excellent. But, if I can, may I ask where you got something like this?"

"From Duo."

Treize looked surprised for just a moment, before he smiled and slipped the coin in his pocket. "I see."

"_He's a goddamn Sherlock Holmes_. _He knows I'm here_, _or at least that I am what I am and you're my host,_" Duo said silently to Heero, then laughed. "_I wonder if he'll tell Wufei_ _so I don't have to_."

"Can I ask something too?" Quatre said, speaking for the first time since they'd come in. His question was addressed to Wufei.

"What?"

"If it's all right... I just wondered what he did for you that you ended up here with him."

"He saved my life and gave me a place to stay. That's all you need to know," Wufei replied tritely. "I owe him here, and I won't let what he's done in the other world interfere with that."

"That's not what you said when I found you," Treize said, hiding his smile and chuckle behind his hand. Wufei scowled at him, but didn't refute it. Before he made it worse, Treize changed the subject. "I've had my housekeeper prepare some rooms for you. Wufei, why don't you go show them and let them put their bags away, and maybe show them and around the house, too?" he suggested.

Wufei grumbled to himself, but Treize knew he couldn't stay contrary forever.

"Fine. Come on," he said to Quatre and Trowa, who got up and followed them out of the room - leaving Treize and Heero alone. Treize listened until their footsteps had faded down the hallway and it was safe for them to talk about things Wufei didn't want to hear.

"How much did Wufei tell you about their... predicament?" Heero asked, taking his cues from Duo.

"Nothing. He only said they needed a place to stay. Do I need to know?" Treize asked, suddenly curious.

"It would probably be helpful," Heero answered. "Especially if you can do anything for them. You're a sorcerer, right?" He never would have guessed it by himself, but he had Duo with him, and Duo knew about that sort of thing.

"Yes, and so is Wufei."

Heero looked surprised. "Really? He never said anything about that. But he's Tsothian, isn't he?"

"Yes. I still haven't gotten the entire story out of him, but I gather he was living there, presumably happily though having to hide his magic, until they were attacked and he was captured. Somebody must have known what he was, because they bound his magic - badly - and he might have died if I hadn't found him."

"How did he wind up here, then?"

"Slave traders."

Heero almost laughed, but stopped himself; Duo had no such restraint.

"He's free now, of course," Treize said. "But you were saying...?"

"Oh, right," Heero said, then took a deep breath and got out the most awkward part of the explanation first. "I guess the most important part that you need to know is that they're not allowed to have sex. Quatre's a - well, an _ex_-healer. I don't know how much you know about that, or..."

"I know healers are supposed to remain celibate, yes. If there's a reason, they keep their secret guarded closely."

"It's because their magic screws with their lover, and the shadow children like to pick them up when that happens," Heero explained.

"I was wondering where they entered the equation..." Treize mused with a knowing smile.

"Anyway, the healers already tried to off Quatre but Trowa took care of them, and then Duo made sure they wouldn't be coming back. And they're safe from the shadow children as well, as long as Trowa doesn't get any more of Quatre's magic."

"Which is transferred during intercourse. I understand," Treize said. "I'm sure I can come up with something if they're having trouble keeping their hands off one another."

"Hopefully they can keep it in the other world and have that be enough," Heero said, and then their conversation was cut off by the entrance of Treize's housekeeper.

"Lunch is almost ready," she informed Treize, who nodded.

"You'll have to go and find Wufei and the other two and tell them. We'll meet them in the dining room," he said, and stood up. She left, and Heero followed Treize out of the room.


	35. Chapter 35

After lunch, before Wufei could find an excuse to get Heero out of there, Treize spoke up first. "Do you have somewhere to be? If not, you're welcome to stay the night," he offered.

"Might as well. I don't know if I'm going to pick up a job while I'm here or what," Heero replied with a shrug. He thought about saying something along the lines of "go back to Duo," but didn't want to lie outright. Deliberate omission was fine; lying was another matter, especially if he was found out.

Satisfied with that answer, Treize turned to Quatre and Trowa. "Did Wufei finish showing you around? If not, you're free to explore for yourselves. I suppose the only places in the house that are off-limits are my study and bedroom," he said with a smile. "Go ahead and make yourselves at home, get acquainted with the housekeeper, whatever you want."

Quatre - who was still a little uncertain and shell-shocked about the whole affair - thanked him and he and Trowa excused themselves from the table and the room.

"You should take them out, show them around the city tomorrow if they want to go," Treize suggested to Wufei after they'd left the room.

"They're not staying here forever," Wufei replied with a scowl, and left in a huff.

"I should probably go talk to him," Treize apologized to Heero, and excused himself as well. "You're welcome to hang around here, or go out and come back tonight - whatever you want. I don't know if you're interested or not, but I have quite an extensive library."

"Not really," Heero replied with a shrug. "I guess I'll go out and take a look around," he said as he stood up.

"Let me show you to the back door, then, and you can come back in that way."

* * *

"What do you think?" Heero asked Duo as he wandered down the hill into the next district to see if there was anything interesting to be found there.

"_Treize seems reasonable enough about this whole thing - more than Wufei, at least,_" Duo replied with a chuckle. "_And he seems to enjoy making Wufei squirm. I think I kind of like him over here._"

"Yeah," Heero agreed. "He does seem a lot more laid-back and friendly, though it might just be because we're not enemies here and it's a more... informal setting."

"_He's just as dangerous, though_," Duo warned him. "_You don't fuck around with sorcerers._"

"I know." Heero stopped to take a look at some swords laid out in front of a blacksmith's shop, then moved on and left that thread of their conversation behind.

"_Are you going to take a job?_" Duo asked him after a few more minutes had passed.

"Might as well," Heero replied. "If you don't mind."

"_I don't mind... as long as you take something _interesting_ this time_," he said with a chuckle. "_None of this pansy nobleman escort shit. I want something exciting and dangerous. Don't worry - I've got your back,_" Duo promised.

Heero smiled and went to look at the boards.

* * *

After a late dinner, Quatre and Trowa retired to their rooms and Heero to his, and Wufei hung around Treize in the library just long enough to keep him company for his nightcap.

"Quit pacing and go to bed," Treize chided him halfway through his glass. "Nothing's going to happen, so stop worrying about it."

"What if one of them tells Duo?"

"They all promised they wouldn't, didn't they? Have some faith in your friends," Treize replied with a smile.

"What if they find out about... _us?_" Wufei fretted.

"Why does it matter? Besides, Quatre and Trowa are going to find out eventually, living with us. Speaking of which, you never told me _they_ were a couple."

"Why does it matter?" Wufei replied automatically, then made a sour face when Treize smiled at him and he realized the trap he'd just walked into. "It's not the same," he said with a scowl.

"Just go to bed," Treize told him. "I'm going to stay up for a while and work on some things."

"Fine," Wufei said with a sigh. Then, to Treize's great amusement, he glanced around the library as though there might be someone there spying on them before he kissed him goodnight and left.

Treize shook his head and chuckled to himself, then finished his glass. After relaxing there for a few more minutes, he went to his study to get to work.

* * *

Treize was the sort of person who could throw himself into a task single-mindedly and block out everything else around him, so it was no surprise that he didn't notice he was being kept company. Of course, Duo was the master of stealth and could make himself blend into the shadows to pass unnoticed wherever he needed to go, but he didn't need to try very hard with Treize.

He sat in a chair in the far corner of the room, and Treize's eyes must have passed over where he sat three or four times before his presence was finally noticed. Treize caught him out of the corner of his eye, a black that was too dark to belong and his instincts and reflexes kicked in before his thought process could finish and he lashed out with his magic.

Duo dodged it easily and it hit the back of the chair instead.

"You're lucky I'm in a good mood," Duo said with a smile. Then, looking at the damage and back at Treize, "Water, huh? So tell me... do opposites attract?"

Treize stared at him for a few moments as he tried to catch up and process the question as he was meant to understand it: not just a question of Wufei's element, but also of their relationship. "They do."

Duo smirked, and Treize remembered to breathe again.

"Are you...?" He already knew the answer, but never having met him face-to-face before in the other world, he wanted to make sure he had the right person.

For an answer, Duo reached up and removed his veil so that Treize could see his face. "Got time to chat?"

"No" was not something you said to a shadow child, so he said "yes" even though he had been in the middle of something.

Duo took a seat in a different chair; Treize sat down of his desk on the opposite side of the room. Friend or enemy, he didn't want to take any more chances than he had to.

"So did you know I was here, or...?" Duo began with a chuckle.

"I thought I felt something when they first arrived, so I guessed what you were and that you must have been with them after Heero said the coin came from you," Treize replied honestly.

"Fair enough. If you hadn't come out and invited Heero in, you would have known sooner," Duo pointed out, and Treize knew it was the truth; Duo certainly had the magic to get past the protective barrier he'd put up around his house, but he would have known something else had come through. His invitation to enter had effectively nullified the barrier and allowed Duo to cross with Heero without him knowing. Duo smiled again. "So tell me... are you going to say anything to Wufei about this? I could be mean and let him know myself... but something tells me it would be even meaner to let _you_ say it."

"Perhaps," Treize said, "But not any time soon. He's upset enough right now as it is about letting them stay here."

"Did it take much... persuasion?" Duo asked with a dirty smirk.

Treize surmised that he already knew exactly what kind of persuasion it had taken, going off his earlier question of whether opposites attracted, and wondered if he had been watching them earlier in the library. "I have a way with words," he replied with a good attempt at keeping a straight face.

"And with your mouth, I bet," Duo leered. "But I believe him when he says you've got nothing on him in the other world, so do whatever you want."

"I wouldn't risk my reputation on an affair with a minor even if he didn't have a problem with it there," Treize said, and this time he didn't have to fake his sincerity.

"Glad to hear it," Duo replied. "Well, I suppose that's everything I wanted," he said as he rose. Treize stood up as well, and Duo grinned as he put his veil back in place and left as silently as he'd come.


	36. Chapter 36

"Tell me the truth - that night we went and you talked to Treize..."

Wufei sighed; he'd expected Trowa to ask him something of the sort. "I already told you. Nothing happened. We talked. I punched him. The end. There is nothing between us here, in this world. _Nothing_."

"Nothing?" Trowa echoed. "I thought you wanted him dead."

"Not... not any more. We talked about it - worked it out. Besides... we still don't know what happens if you die in one world. It would be kind of stupid for me to kill him here and then discover I've been left without a place to stay - and you two too, now." Obviously, that wasn't the true reason, but he wasn't about to say that, even to Trowa. He was worried enough as it was about what would happen if - or when - he and Quatre found out.

"Makes sense," Trowa said with a shrug. "I just wondered."

"I told you before: I'm not going to do anything stupid," Wufei assured him.

* * *

Heero left shortly after breakfast the next morning, to Wufei's relief. He hadn't wanted Heero there in the first place since he well knew that Duo had him wrapped around his little finger, which meant he was probably at the most risk for telling Duo, followed by Quatre. As always, Trowa was the only one he really trusted not to say anything. Now that he figured everything had settled down, the only thing he had to worry about was not letting Quatre or Trowa find out about his relationship with Treize.

Treize, however, had other plans.

As much as he wanted not to upset Wufei, he also did not like the idea of having to hide his actions in his own house, guests or no. He intended to continue his business as usual and, as much as Wufei disliked it, to go ahead as though their new house guests weren't there. However, he neglected to tell Wufei of his plans, thinking that perhaps shocking him with it would help him get over himself quicker - and, if _he_ was surprised, maybe it would shock Quatre and Trowa a little less. That would make things easier to explain. Treize still felt that Wufei was blowing the whole thing epically out of proportion and that they wouldn't have nearly the issue with it that Wufei thought they would.

He was in the habit of kissing Wufei goodbye whenever one of them left the house, so after Heero had left it was an easy matter to suggest that Wufei should take Quatre and Trowa out into the city to show them around and let them do some shopping if necessary.

"We should think about getting some new clothes," Quatre admitted after Treize suggested it. "We've been on the road - and on the run - for quite a while, and thee are starting to get a bit ragged." It was true; their clothes were not in the best condition, and they only had a single change of clothes each.

"And please, don't worry about the money," Treize told him. "As long as you're here, I'll happily pay for anything you need. The payment I received is more than enough to cover everything, no matter how long you're here."

"We have money," Quatre answered, even though it wasn't a lot - living on their own, it would probably only last a month at most.

"Then you should save it for an emergency," Treize cautioned him. "Really, it's no problem. I've got more than I know what to do with, and I'd rather have you spend it than just let it sit around gathering dust."

"If that's really all right, then thank you," Quatre responded, then, "Well? Should we go now, Wufei?"

"We can," Wufei answered sullenly. He didn't particularly want to go anywhere with them, but he couldn't say no, either.

Treize went to fetch them a purse full of coins to take with them, and encouraged Quatre to spend it all and to have an nice lunch while they were out. Then, quickly, before Wufei could slip out the door and get away from him, he said "have fun!" and gave him his customary peck on the cheek.

Wufei immediately turned red and began to sputter, as Quatre looked on, somewhat amused by his reaction.

"What do you think you're doing?" Wufei demanded of his lover as Quatre giggled behind his hand.

"What do you mean?" Treize asked, feigning innocence.

"I told you -" he insisted, then remembered the present company. "It's not what it looks like!"

"I beg to differ," Treize said with a smile, and put a hand on Wufei's shoulder. Wufei immediately shook him off and turned back to stare at him, aghast that he had been betrayed.

Treize was surprised - but almost relieved - to see that Wufei, rather than being angry, was instead upset almost to the point of tears. His expression seemed to beg the question, "why have you done this to me?", and made Treize feel almost guilty for having done this to him.

"Wufei," Treize addressed him gently, "I'm sure they really don't mind."

"I don't mind," Quatre affirmed immediately, then smiled. "I think it's nice that you can get along so well over here, at least."

True to his word, Trowa had not mentioned anything Wufei had told him to anyone, including Quatre. At the moment, however, Wufei was too occupied to take note of this fact.

"I mean, it makes a lot more sense to me now why you don't want to mix the two worlds - rather than just _living_ together, I mean."

Wufei seemed shocked that Quatre accepted it so easily. He looked to Trowa, who merely nodded and said, "It's your life."

"See? I told you. I told you before that they wouldn't mind, and you didn't believe me. Now..." Treize said, changing the subject, "are you still going out, or do you want to go tomorrow instead? Or I could show them around myself, if you want to stay here."

"We can go tomorrow," Quatre demurred before Wufei had a chance to even think about what he wanted.

"I'd feel like a bad host if you didn't have clean clothes," Treize said as he put his hand on Wufei's shoulder again; this time, Wufei didn't brush him off. "If you want to give my housekeeper your measurements, I can send her out to find something for you."

Quatre opened his mouth to say that it wasn't necessary, but gave in and changed his mind. "Thank you," he said instead, then, to Wufei, "Are you all right?"

"I'm going to... go lie down," he mumbled, and left. Treize turned to them.

"Don't worry, he'll be fine," he assured them. "I'll go and talk to him. Just... don't tell Duo," he said with a wink - a not-so-subtle hint to let them know that he knew. With that, he took his leave of them and went to find Wufei.

As he'd anticipated Treize found Wufei not in the bedroom, but in the library, curled up in a chair in one of the far corners. Like he'd done that first night they'd met, in his study, when Wufei had told him what had happened, he bent down and put his arms around him.

"I'm sorry," he offered simply.

"Why do you have to be so _mean_?" Wufei asked him, but didn't push him away.

"No, if I wanted to be mean, I wouldn't have waited until after Heero had left," Treize pointed out with a smile, and tugged him up out of the chair so that he could sit down, then pulled Wufei back down onto his lap. "They would have found out eventually - better now than later. Besides, you're overreacting."

"_I'm_ overreacting?" he asked incredulously. "It's _your_ fault."

"What doesn't kill you makes you stronger?" Treize offered, and stroked Wufei's hair as he grumbled about it. "It's not going to kill you for them to know. Besides, it's my house, I shouldn't have to sneak around, and neither should you. They have to put up with us, not the other way around."

"But what if Duo finds out? I'd never live it down," Wufei protested, and Treize smiled and kissed his forehead.

"You'll be fine, I promise," Treize assured him. "And I don't think it would be as bad as you make it out to be. Have some trust in them. They are your friends, after all. You've already drilled it into them that you aren't mixing worlds, anyway," he said with a chuckle. "You have nothing to worry about."

"I wish," Wufei grumbled, but didn't say any more.

"So you're all right now?" Treize asked.

"I guess."

* * *

As the days and weeks passed things began to settle into a more normal routine, at least in one world. War raged in one, but it was balanced out by worries of much simpler things in the other.

Trowa, who, as he had told Quatre many times from the beginning, was a slave, had always been one, and was content to continue being one. Obviously Quatre was still not happy about this, but he respected Trowa's decision, and, speaking with Treize and his housekeeper - who was thrilled to have another pair of hands to help her with cooking, cleaning, running errands and the like, especially now that there were more people living there - worked out a compromise. Due to the issue of taxes, which Treize didn't want them avoiding if they were living under his roof, he took ownership of Trowa with the understanding that, if or when they left, he'd go back to being Quatre's. This also solved Quatre's dilemma of not wanting to own a slave and not having to sell (or free) Trowa, and they could still be together.

While Trowa kept himself busy doing chores around the house, Quatre turned to Treize's extensive library for something to do. There was more than enough material there for him to study whatever he wanted, and he decided to take it upon himself to try and discover and investigate more into his healer's magic and as much as he could into the order; difficult, now that he was no longer a part of it, but not impossible. When not doing that, he helped Treize out where he could with his clients, offering his healing services to those who didn't want anything to do with the order or who'd gotten wounded in situations they'd prefer not to discuss.

Even though Duo had paid for them, Quatre still felt obligated to give half of what he earned this way to Treize. The other half he kept hidden away, saving it up in case they needed it someday.

Wufei continued to worry, although he gradually, grudgingly, came to accept the fact that Quatre and Trowa genuinely did not mind his relationship with Treize and that they weren't going to tell Duo or Heero about it. Treize felt it better to not mention it in the meantime - at least not until it turned out to be necessary.

* * *

_Continued in _**Two Lives, One Death**


End file.
